When the Sun Rises Red
by Eerie
Summary: SO3. To everyone's dismay, Fayt decides to go with a certain unpredictable swordsman to Elicoor II. But if he could have only imagined what Luther's threat had truly meant, would he still have gone? Slash.
1. A Crack in the Ice

**When the Sun Rises Red**

By Eerie

Halfhearted Warning: spoilers, yaoi, angst, naked Albel, everything you know you love.

A/N: Just to let you know early on, I pretty much rewrote the ending to the game, just because I didn't think the game's ending was all that interesting. Actually, it sucked in my opinion. Besides, this is yaoi. There's got to be some twists and turns somewhere. Comments, naturally, are more than appreciated. Thanks for reading!

One

* * *

The day was already promising to be a bleak one, as the clouds lingered thinly across a morning sky above the western mountains all but shining under a slowly rising sun. Faint streaks of carmine trailed between the shredded veils of dust that arose from the recent activity in the mines just north of Kirlsa. 

Fayt propped his elbows on the windowsill and deeply breathed in the cold morning air flowing down from the Traum Mountains, unconcerned for the heat that was quickly slipping from the room through the cracked window. He closed his eyes. It felt good to just sit and relax while watching the sun rise. Sure, he had seen sunrises plenty of times while traveling endlessly from town to town, but he hadn't done it for its own sake in so long. And now that he knew his days might very well be numbered, well, he didn't need an excuse. The mountain air was always fresh, but he never truly noticed until this morning.

Fayt was tired. Tired of making detrimental decisions on which the lives his friends and those of other planets' inhabitants depended. Tired feeling that he was currently accomplishing more in his young life than the accumulated experiences of his adult life could possibly add up to. Tired of the constant race against time.

A group of children ran screeching and laughing along the dusty street beneath his window. Fayt watched them chase each other until they disappeared into a narrow alley between two rustic buildings. Though initially he found the primitive qualities of this planet difficult to adjust to, he was beginning to develop a liking for their simple ways of living. There was just something nice about it. But even still, he sorely missed the ability to take a hot shower while he was there.

Movement from around the corner caught his eye and Fayt looked to see Albel walking leisurely from the direction of Count Woltar's manor. That's right, he had stayed at the old man's place last night. Fayt studied the blond tips of Albel's hair shining like molten gold in the rays of the young sun, perhaps the most recognizable feature of the captain of the Black Brigade. That along with the unusual outfit the young man chose to wear into battle. Fayt shook his head. What was with that anyway? That tight top which screamed for the onlooker to stare at its owner's perfectly built midriff. Those leggings that stopped above his knees to reveal the curves of his upper thighs. Even the gorgeous women of Earth rarely wore such provocative clothing. Why in the world would a seasoned warrior like Albel Nox choose such attire? It couldn't possibly be comfortable to fight in… And then there was the young man's steel-armored limb. Of course, Fayt could never muster the nerve to ask Albel why he chose to wear the claw, though he'd always wanted to know.

Fayt hadn't realized that he was staring at his teammate as he was contemplating until Albel had disappeared at the entrance to the inn. The abrupt knock on the door made him bolt upright, quickly closing the window. Without waiting for his summons, the door opened.

"Hey, buddy, glad you're up. Got a present from Maria if you wanna to share it with me." Cliff shut the door behind him with his foot and set the steaming apple pie on the floor next to Fayt's bunk. "Damn, why's it so cold in here?"

Fayt scratched at the back of his head. "Oh, yeah, I was just getting some fresh air."

Cliff shrugged and slumped heavily onto the hardwood floor. "Can't say I blame you. I swear they never dust this place. You'd think they'd be a little more attentive, being a mining town and all." The blonde handed a fork to Fayt and pushed the dessert closer to his companion.

"Thanks," Fayt said and accepted the utensil before also seating himself.

Cliff chewed his first bite, his eyes fixed on Fayt's pale face. He swallowed and knit his eyebrows. "You sleep okay? You look pretty worn out."

Fayt shrugged and stabbed a cinnamon-coated apple chunk. "Yeah, I just feel a little bit tired still." It was close enough to the truth. Not that he doubted Cliff's ability to understand his weary state of mind, he just didn't feel like talking about it.

Fayt continued his breakfast in silence, listening to Cliff's ranting about having to go back into that damp maze under Aquaria in order to acquire the Sacred Orb.

"Who'd have thought that we had it once already? Too bad we couldn't have just taken it then so we wouldn't have to go back. I can hardly make heads or tails out of that place," Cliff said once finished and leaned back onto his elbows.

"That's because you're a fool."

Both men turned at the biting voice and saw Albel leaning unnoticed in the frame of the doorway. A slight smirk hugged a corner of his lips.

"When the hell did you sneak in here?" Cliff spat.

Albel crossed his arms. "Well, I wouldn't expect you to hear even the rusty hinges of an old door over the sound of your own voice."

Cliff openly ground his teeth. "So then what _do_ you want? Is everyone ready to go?"

Albel shrugged a shoulder and glanced at each of them.

Fayt flinched slightly when cold crimson eyes briefly lingered on his. He quickly found something interesting in the opposite wall.

"I don't know what all of those worms are doing. But _I'm_ ready, so let's get going," Albel snapped and strode from the room.

Cliff sighed in exasperation. "Geez. I'm never gonna get used to that guy, Fayt. Honestly, what a rotten attitude."

Fayt just looked at the empty space where Albel had stood. Cliff obviously could not see the subtext in the things Albel said and did, but Fayt considered himself a bit more adept. Something was bothering the swordsman. He wasn't sure he'd have the willpower to tempt Albel into revealing anything. He might very well get himself slashed for trying.

Though he was skeptical about letting Albel join their party at first, he quickly got the impression that placing his trust in the strange swordsman was not an unwise decision. There was something in Albel that was reliable and faithful, despite his occasional unpredictability, his threats and morbid tendencies. Not only that, but the Elicoorian could fight like a madman. Cliff would never have wanted to hear it, but Albel was an important asset to their team.

"He's probably just stressed out after all he's been through," Fayt offered.

Cliff raised an eyebrow. "I don't know how you even try to figure out what's going in _that_ head."

But Fayt was almost certain that he was right. In all actuality, he was surprised Albel hadn't had a nervous breakdown yet. To go from a simple planet whose only problem revolved around a feud between countries to an interstellar war based on mind boggling technology could not possibly leave a normal person unchanged. Not that Albel was normal. But he was still human. Even Fayt was confused and scared over the discovery of another dimension's control over his galaxy. But Albel kept firm hold of his stubborn fearlessness.

And that worried Fayt.

"Well, I suppose we should move out. No time to lose, as they say." Cliff stood and slammed his fist into a cupped palm.

Fayt nodded and together they made their way to the first floor of the inn. Peppita, Maria, and Adray sat around a table in the corner of the lobby, speaking quietly. Albel stood with his arms crossed and back to the wall, ignoring the group. Mirage and Sophia were the only ones missing. Fayt and Cliff exchanged glances.

"I'll go check out the shops," Fayt volunteered and made his way out the door.

The town was relatively quiet that morning, and only a few early workers and restless children populated the streets. As he drew up close to the grocer, he could hear women's voices issuing softly from beyond the door. One of them sounded like Sophia's.

Fayt stopped and pressed his ear gently to the thick wood and heard Mirage's voice next. He couldn't understand what they were talking about, but it was apparent that Sophia was upset about something. He sighed, wanting to let them resolve whatever it was, but they didn't have time for such things.

Fayt pushed the door open and sized up the scene before him, slightly uncomfortable for even being there. Sophia was drying her eyes hurriedly on her sleeve upon seeing him. "Is something the matter? Sophia, are you alright?"

The girl offered a weak smile. "Yeah, it's nothing. I just wanted to talk with someone. Sorry, Fayt."

"There's no reason to be sorry, but if something's up I want you to tell me, no matter what it is." Fayt watched confused as Mirage and Sophia stood to follow him out of the shop.

"Okay, Fayt. Thank you." Sophia smiled more genuinely, though Fayt could tell there was something they would not reveal to him no matter how much prying he could suffer himself through. He decided it best to let it be for now.

"Right, well, everyone's ready to go if you are." Fayt wondered what was going on today. Everyone seemed to be acting a bit off.

"Right behind you," Mirage said and waited for the blue-haired boy to lead the way.

Once every individual in the group was unified, they left Kirlsa toward Arias. From there it was on to Peterny and then to the Sacred City of Aquios.

They each fought hard all day long, resting very briefly before pressing on again. By the time the sun was setting they had reached Peterny, exhausted and starved. While Cliff signed their names in the registry at the reception desk of the inn, Fayt noticed with some apprehension that Albel was pacing restlessly about the room. Eyeing the others and seeing no one was currently watching either of them, Fayt approached the ruffled swordsman, bracing himself in case he was about to have his head bitten off. Well, better him than some poor inn maid.

"Albel," he said softly near the entrance, hoping only the addressed would hear him. Albel stopped and glared at him, but didn't spit a word. Thank goodness. The last thing Fayt wanted was any sort of scene to put everyone else more on edge. But Albel looked as though he would positively explode at any second.

Fayt motioned with his head for Albel to follow him outside, and to his relief the older man did so. Stars were beginning to emerge from the deep indigo of the unrolling night high to the east as the last rays of orange and gold slipped beyond the western horizon. The dusky blue glow surrounding everything made Albel's face appear like that of a demon's, the stains of blood on his clothes from the monsters deepen nearly to black. Fayt recoiled, regretting his bravery already.

"Well? Do you have something to say to me?" Albel snarled and gripped the hilt of his katana.

Fayt lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. "Easy. It just looked like you had something on your mind."

Albel sneered but did not relax his stance. "So what if I do? What, you thought that you and I could have a heart to heart? You're an even bigger fool than I thought."

"Actually, I was going to see if you wanted to spar for a while." The words spilled from Fayt's lips before he had time to think about them. Though it was probably a good thing to recover with, he really was too tired to actually go through with it if the Elicoorian agreed.

Albel weighed the offer for a moment before standing straight and releasing the handle of his sword. "Pointless. You're dead on your feet as it is."

Fayt sighed inwardly in relief. "Then, maybe we can get something to eat."

"Hmph."

Fayt watched as Albel turned abruptly and reentered the inn. He rubbed his forehead in confusion. Well if Albel didn't want to say anything, so be it. But Fayt was still too hungry to turn in just yet. He decided to search out the market instead.

By the time he returned, night had completely conquered the sky. The moon was shining like a jester's smile above the quiet buildings. No one was stirring this night. Until any sort of peace was restored to the continent, he doubted anyone would.

The front desk clerk glanced up briefly when the Earthborn boy entered, but quickly resumed her scribbling in a journal. Fayt approached the desk and politely asked what his room number was.

The girl looked up with a slight expression of irritation. "What was your name again?"

"Fayt. Fayt Leingod."

The girl flipped through the registry and ran a finger down the page. "We're pretty full tonight, so in case you didn't know, your friends had to room with one another." She paused. "Mister Leingod. You're in room three, just down the hall there." After gesturing the direction and offering a bland smile she resumed her writing.

Fayt turned and walked wearily down the hallway. When he came to the room, he twisted the knob and found it locked. Strange, he thought, normally Cliff never locked the door. Fayt knocked loudly, hoping the blonde wasn't already asleep. To his surprise, the door was thrown open by a sour-faced Albel. Fayt checked the number on the door again.

"Uh, I thought I would be rooming with Cliff," Fayt said rather dumbly.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Albel said sarcastically, "but there's always the hallway if this arrangement is a problem."

Seeing that the man was about to shut the door in his face, Fayt stammered, "No! I mean, I was just expecting it. There's no problem."

"Hmph." Albel left the door ajar and stomped to his bed. He stretched himself out on the rumpled thing facing the wall away from Fayt.

The blue-haired boy closed the door and sat down in front of the fireplace. He opened his sack and extracted the steamed buns that he had bought from the market. Immersing himself in the winding dance of the flames and his own scattered thoughts, Fayt began on his first bun.

"_Must_ you chew so loudly?" Albel growled softly from the bed after a moment of quiet.

Fayt snapped back into reality. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was."

Albel didn't reply. Fayt glanced at the older man's back, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in that room. Though he was lying very still, it was clear that Albel was far from sleepy; Fayt could practically see the dark red aura surrounding the swordsman's body. Though he was reluctant to say anything out of fear of how Albel would react, Fayt couldn't toss away his habitual manners. "I bought enough for two."

"So save them," the reclining man bit.

"Honestly, Albel. You haven't eaten since yesterday. How long do you expect to be able to keep up your strength?" Fayt realized that he sounded just like his mother, but he didn't care.

Albel suddenly jerked his body to lie on his side facing Fayt. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I'm not hungry? That your incessant prattling is driving me crazy?"

"What's with you lately? You're not acting like yourself." Fayt was gradually losing his apprehension in favor of annoyance.

Albel took on a falsely surprised face. "Really. And how am I meant to act?"

"I don't know, more sarcastic in a less angry way."

"Nobody asked for your opinion."

"You just did!" Fayt felt his face growing hotter, though it had little to do with the proximity of the fire.

Albel was glaring at him so hard his gaze could crack stone. "What the hell do you want, Fayt?"

Fayt glared back as best he could, which wasn't very convincing at all. In fact, he was more surprised at hearing his name spoken by the warrior. It was a rare occurrence to be called something that didn't represent a crawling insect. "Just eat something." He tossed a bun at the older man and turned back to the fire after seeing it cruelly caught.

Albel snorted in irritation before beginning to devour the thing. The two ate in silence until their hands were empty.

When Fayt turned away from the fire, the sight of Albel staring directly at him took him aback. "W-what?" he asked defensively.

Albel sneered. "Never mind." Tossing his head to fling the two wrapped strands of hair out of his path, Albel laid down facing the wall again.

Fayt just looked at the curve joining the older man's back and hipbone, trying to understand what in the world had just transpired between the two of them.

* * *

The next afternoon found them in Aquios. The sky was clear and blue without a trace of cloud to be found. Peppita was skipping along, the bells on her shoes adding a touch of music to the soft warm breezes that blew over the Moonlit Bridge. 

"Oh! It's so big and beautiful!" she cried and performed a twirl. "I wish the Rossetti Troupe could perform here, Fayt!"

Fayt smiled at her. "Maybe some day you will."

From behind him, Fayt heard a soft snort of doubt from Albel. Deciding to ignore it, he pressed on to meet up to Sophia, who was leaning at the railing of the bridge's edge.

"Hey. Feeling alright today?" he asked as he stepped up to her side.

Sophia turned to him and beamed. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just that I've been so tired lately. It's hard to adjust to this sort of pace. I don't know how you did it, Fayt."

Fayt grinned. "Guess all those video games paid off after all."

Sophia rolled her eyes and gazed back down into the river. "It really is pretty here."

"Yeah." Fayt rested his hand on top of hers in an assuring manner.

Sophia looked back up at him, her eyes shining. "If we, I mean, when we beat this Owner, I want to come back here. Maybe just the two of us." Her smile was meaningful.

"Sure," Fayt agreed obliviously. "I'd love to see this place again."

Cliff suddenly stepped up behind them and rested two heavy hands on each of their shoulders. "Okay, kiddies, enough mooning already. We've got a job to do."

"Right," Fayt agreed, not bothering to defend himself as acting with innocence due to his good mood that day. He was doing his best to not think about the unpleasant evening with Albel the night before. That swordsman was currently striding purposefully ahead of the group toward the castle. "Let's get going."

* * *

The queen watched them with eyes that never ceased to disturb Fayt with their close resemblance to Albel's. He looked at the floor instead. She would soon agree that it was for the best that they take their sacred ancient artifact; that, he already knew. The Lady of Aquaria wasn't exactly difficult to win over when it came to the security of her country, though her decisions were decidedly wise for the age of her planet. She was a good and just queen, of that there was no question, but her eyes positively bothered him. Eyes the color of shed blood just seemed out of place on such a pure and holy woman. But for one such as Albel, it seemed they were solely created. 

I shouldn't be thinking about things like this right now, Fayt chided himself and shut his eyes altogether. Sure enough, the queen offered her permission for the group to take the Sacred Orb and they were immediately on their way toward the chapel.

'Ugh, I'm really not looking forward to this," Cliff groaned as they descended the stairway in the center of the floor.

"I don't think any of us are," Maria answered.

Bruised and bleeding, the group emerged from the dark pits of Aquaria, the Sacred Orb clutched in Sophia's arms. Night had already fallen, and the queen looked tired as they filed into the throne room.

"I am relieved you are all safe," she said. "Please take rest. May the light of Apris shine on your upcoming journeys and your fate." With that, she offered a low bow and retired to her room.

With weary glances exchanged, Fayt and the group made their way in silence to the rooms they were promised in the castle. No one seemed in the mood for much talk that night. They were very nearly killed trying to get the orb from the winding hallways of Kaddan Shrine.

Due to recent unfortunate events and the fleeing of several other runologists, they each had their own personal room. Because of this fact, Fayt was quite surprised to hear a determined knock at his door ten minutes after having finally fallen asleep. Blinking hard and trying to remember just where he was, the blue-haired boy slowly stood and moved toward the door. Whatever it is, he thought, it had better be important.

When he saw Albel standing on the other side, Fayt squinted his eyes. "Albel? Geez, what time is it? What are you doing here?"

"Shut up and come with me," the dark-haired warrior growled and snagged Fayt by the shirt to all but drag him forcefully down the hallway.

"What! What are you doing?" Fayt cried, now fully awake.

Albel did not answer, but pushed Fayt into his own room and shut the door firmly behind. Fayt stumbled before regaining his composure, glaring angrily at the man that was currently standing and staring at him with a stern expression from the entryway.

"Why did you act so irrationally today?" Albel asked straightaway.

Fayt shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid. I know you were hurt far worse than I when you cast those healing spells on me. Why did you do that?" The dark-haired man remained still, unwavering.

Fayt knitted his eyebrows. "Albel, why in the world are you asking me this? I couldn't watch you, or anyone, just die in front of my eyes. Anyway, not everyone knows that spell. It was tough today for all of us."

"Stop lying. You were vomiting up blood at one point. What good is the healer when he himself is dead?" Albel began to approach Fayt slowly.

Fayt looked upon the taller swordsman with some alarm. "Y-you saw that?"

Albel stopped, cocking his head to the side and waiting for his answer.

Fayt looked away, shrugging. "Even still, you're a better fighter than I am," he said quietly.

Albel sneered. "What a worthless maggot you truly are. Go back to bed."

Fayt stared with wide eyes as Albel brushed past him on his way toward the bed. "That's it?" he couldn't help but blurting.

Albel whirled around and glared at Fayt. "Were you expecting something else?"

Of course, he didn't know what to expect. But for some reason, this strange confrontation seemed to lack any sort of resolve or even climax. Fayt shook his head. "N-no."

"Then get out."

Fayt obeyed. The hallway was cold that night as he made his way back to his room. What had gotten into Albel? Fayt almost felt bad for leaving the swordsman without discovering the reason for such a strange late night inquiry. Well, no point in dwelling on the useless, Fayt assured himself. Albel was always going to be a bit odd. Best just to try to ignore it.

* * *

The next morning Fayt was craving a bath like mad. And since he was currently in Aquaria, the request for such an activity was not looked upon with irritation from the servants of the castle. In fact, there was a large bathhouse for each gender within the castle, a fact he had stumbled on very fortunately his first day there while roaming about the halls with Cliff and Nell. 

Nell. Maybe he'd go and visit her again before they left. He might not ever get the chance to see her again. Fayt smiled wearily. If Sophia had heard him voice such a thought, she would probably smack him for not being optimistic. But he wished that Nell could have joined them on their journey, if she hadn't had her own things to attend to. The most important of which seemed to be with Claire. Even if she wouldn't let on, it was obvious to Fayt that the woman was in love with her captain. Secretly, Fayt wished for their success with one another.

After the servant standing at the door of the men's baths lent him a thick white towel, Fayt emptily thanked him. He was too absorbed in his thoughts. As he walked toward the tubs, he wondered at what made Nell continue as she did. She knew very well that something bigger than she could possibly imagine was going on in realms outside her own, more powerful than she could fully comprehend. But she chose to stay. For the freedom to live. And ultimately, the freedom to pursue her love. Even if he were to reveal the details of everything he had learned about another dimension controlling his galaxy and theirs, she would still probably choose to stay.

And for that, in a way, Fayt couldn't help but envy her. If only things were so simple for himself. If only he could decide his own fate.

The steam from the tubs fogged his vision as he neared, and Fayt focused his attention on the feasible world before him. He slowly stripped out of his clothing and laid the pieces aside before sinking gratefully into the warm water. He immediately sank his head beneath the surface, staying under as long as he could before the burning in his lungs was too much to bear. Such was his ritual ever since childhood: to see how much longer he could stay under than the time before. Back then his goal was to eventually learn how to breathe underwater. Fayt smiled to himself at the memory. Now it was about seeing how much endurance he had gained.

After a moment he reemerged and sucked in a great breath of air.

"Hn. I wondered if you would come back up."

Fayt jumped, startled at the other voice which he immediately recognized. "Damnit, Albel! Why didn't you say something to me when I came in?"

Albel shrugged from the tub parallel to Fayt. "Maybe because you seemed more intent on drowning yourself. I was intrigued."

Fayt snorted. "Well, you scared me." He tried unsuccessfully to cast a spiteful glare at the other soaking opposite of him, but Albel's eyes were closed anyway, a satisfied smile on the man's lips. Fayt relaxed his countenance and quickly fell into a blank spell, his eyes fixed on Albel.

The latter's skin was glistening in the humid room, streams of condensed steam flowing down the sides of his face. The two long strands of cloth-bound hair were brushing against the floor from the tall edge of the clawed bathtub, the shorter strands framing the older man's face pushed back to allow Fayt full view of his features.

Fayt couldn't help but stare. Albel really was beautiful. His fine features were even more so now that his jaggedly cut hair was no longer obscuring them. Fayt had never imagined such a ruthless warrior could possibly look that way. And in all honesty, the things he was noticing as of late confused him. Was he really attracted to this man? Even in the hovering mist he could swear he made out the older swordsman's pulse beating lightly against the pale skin of his slender throat.

When Albel opened his eyes, he didn't need to glance at Fayt to know that the younger man's gaze was on him. "It's not polite to stare, worm." His tone was mocking.

Fayt tore his eyes away and blinked rapidly for a moment in embarrassment. He hadn't even realized he was doing it. In fact, he hadn't been aware of many things he was doing lately.

There was a long series of silent moments between them before Albel spoke. "It was the old man."

Fayt jerked his head to look in surprise at his companion. "What?"

Albel cast a sharp reproachful glance at the other before explaining. "The other night, in Kirlsa."

Fayt suddenly remembered Albel's altered mood since that particular morning at the Kirlsa inn after spending the night at Waltor's manor. "What did he do?"

"It's not what he did." Albel growled. "It's what he said."

Fayt waited quietly in anticipation, allowing his companion to find whatever words would come next.

The dark-haired man sighed in annoyance. "When I told him what was going on, outside of this dimension, that I was playing a part in literally saving the universe, he laughed. He told me that I could never do something like that. That I could never contribute to any kind of positive force. I am destined to be labeled 'Albel the Wicked' forever. My past being proof." He lifted his burned arm from the water and gave it a spiteful look. "A natural villain."

Fayt had never seen Albel without his claw. The sight of the deep angry scars made his mind go blank for a moment. When his mouth opened, he forcefully stopped himself from inquiring about the warrior's injury. Not yet. Albel was actually opening up to him right now. Such things could be asked later. "Er, but he was the one that brought us all together in the first place."

"That means nothing. He simply didn't want my boring death in the cellar of that stagnant pit of a castle to weigh on his conscious. He didn't care what happened otherwise."

Fayt thought. The man had obviously played a large part in Albel's upbringing, and from what Fayt could tell about their meeting, Woltar was not the cold and calculating man he had first imagined. He couldn't just turn against Albel without a shred of emotion. "I'm sure there was a reason why he said something like that. I think he just wants to keep you strong; to keep you convinced that you can prove him wrong."

Albel was silent for a moment. Suddenly he stood from the water and seized his towel. As he pressed the cloth against his face, Fayt couldn't help but linger his gaze on the older man's naked body. Not that Albel's attire left much to the imagination, but now that he was seeing it, it was difficult to tear his eyes from. The Elicoorian wasn't beautiful. He was gorgeous. Wait, he didn't just think that, did he?

Albel violently yanked the towel around his hips and tucked one end beneath the formed waistband. "You spout nothing but garbage," he declared and cast a final stony glare at Fayt before tromping away to retrieve his clothes.

Fayt blinked. What in the world just happened? One minute he was feeling sympathy for the orphan and attempting a serious conversation, and next he was hard just looking at the man. Fayt rubbed fiercely at his eyes. Maybe he was just fatigued. Whatever it was, he adamantly _refused_ to do anything about the sudden prominent swelling between his legs.

Once his groin finally gave up and he was positive that Albel was no longer in the bath room, Fayt rose and prepared for another day of running.

* * *

To be continued... 


	2. Presage

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Two

­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

The hall of the ancient round table of Mosel was cold, despite the scorching desert heat outside. Gooseflesh formed on Fayt's arms, though he was not certain if it was the chill or what he had planned to do that induced it.

As the group made its way down the dark stairs, Fayt lingered behind and waited for everyone to disappear into the blackness. Maria had triggered the lightstone from the front, casting long shadows over the stone of the cracked stairway. He took a deep breath and grabbed hold of Albel's right arm before the trailing man could follow the rest. The swordsman whirled around angrily cast a disbelieving look at Fayt's hand.

The blue-haired boy released Albel's arm instantly.

"What's the meaning of this?" Albel asked suspiciously. No one had yet noticed that the two weren't following.

"Whatever happens in there, I believe in you." Fayt said as if it were well rehearsed. And indeed it was. That morning in the bath room had left him feeling edgy, like there was something he simply had to say to Albel before they found Owner's sphere. Before everything came to that one final moment when all their hard work, the extent of their belief, was put to the test. He had run over several different things to say in his mind as they made their way across the burning sand before choosing this one. But now that he had said it, he was not so sure it was what he had meant to say. It seemed ridiculous once spoken.

Albel raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

He didn't know whether to feel hurt or relieved. Instead, Fayt felt like an idiot. Growing pink in the cheeks, he nodded shortly in affirmation and began to retreat toward the stairs. He was startled to feel Albel's bone-crushing grip close around his wrist and yank him back. He was at a loss for words or even thoughts when his back slammed against the unyielding wall. The impact stole his breath and bruised his spine.

Albel held his wrist fast, even when Fayt was trapped between stone and the swordsman's strong body. Green eyes looked with panic into red ones. The Elicoorian was leaning his weight into Fayt's body and hovering close. Even if Fayt could breathe, he wouldn't remember how. Albel's knee was wedged between his thighs, the man's breath swirling lightly over his mouth. Fayt waited, his sore muscles tight in a mixture of fright and desire.

But Albel's face wore no expression, gave no answers. "I don't need your confidence." Though his tone was stern, the sentiment was whispered. The biting mockery that normally pulsated within every word that issued from Albel's mouth was subdued into something strangely sensual when its volume was taken down.

The only thing Fayt felt when Albel released his aching wrist and moved toward the stairs was disappointment. Maybe some confusion as well. He rubbed the sore skin that was already showing signs of a nasty bruise and began to breathe again.

"Yo, Fayt! You comin' or what?" Cliff's voice boomed from the base of the stairs.

Fayt hurried to join his party, convincing himself that forgetting about what had just happened and moving on with the job was the only way he'd be able to keep his mind on the battle at hand.

* * *

They had come far. Suffered anguish and cruel losses. Fought, fell, and stood back up too many times to count. And now they were there. The end of it all.

Fayt had never believed in the existence of so many stairs before that day, though the burning in his legs told him that he would stay away from them for a while thereafter. That is, if they survived this. He clutched the hilt of his weapon tightly in his sweating palms, watching the extravagantly clad young man in the center of the room closely. The handsome blonde was not exactly the picture he had in mind for the Creator of all things he had ever known.

Luther tilted his head back and gave each of them a cold look of disparagement. "I don't know how you managed to get this far, but be assured that you'll go no further."

Blair stood at a safe distance and pleaded with her brother to rethink what he was doing. Luther looked as though he would spit on her for a moment before ignoring her in favor of the others.

"Realize, that I created you all. You are nothing more than subservient strings of information made for the entertainment of others. _I_ am your _God_!"

"You're wrong! We're more than just data: we have thoughts and feelings!" Sophia cried.

Luther laughed. "What nonsense. Programs have no souls." His lips curled smugly when he looked at a disbelieving Fayt.

"That's a lie!" Fayt bit. "We lead real lives just like you."

"Pretentious…" Luther seemed to be considering something. He was watching the blue-haired boy with eerie calm.

Cliff noticed this and ground his teeth. "And just what do you plan on doing about it?"

Luther's stare never left Fayt's face. "That depends."

Albel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "On what?" He could hardly mask the suspicion from his voice. Something was not right, and he could tell from Luther's expression that he would not like whatever would come from the programmer's mouth.

Luther's blue eyes flickered disdainfully over Albel's. "On what your leader decides."

Fayt blinked. Was it really a possibility to reason with this man instead of fighting him? It sounded too good to be true. "What do you mean?"

With a flourish, Luther turned away and approached the terminal. Everyone stared at him in anticipation. Even Blair was on her toes. Suddenly Luther rounded on them and folded his arms. "I'll give you two choices. You can reject my proposition and face deletion, or you can accept and continue running, though under certain conditions."

"What's the proposition?" Fayt asked.

The reply was delivered without hesitation. "You must become my personal subordinate."

Everyone was silent and nearly every mouth was agape. Only Albel registered what Luther had said, and his teeth were grinding. Finally, seeing the addressed was still dumb with shock, he spat: "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Luther snorted. "I'm sure my meaning was clear."

"Y-you're insane!" Cliff sputtered.

"Wait," Fayt said, furrowing his brow. "You're saying that you'll stop all this if I just promise to go with you?"

Luther gave a somewhat assenting gesture by jerking his head slightly to the side.

Green eyes closed briefly. "…What are the conditions?"

"Fayt!" Maria exclaimed and turned to face him. "You can't be seriously considering this guy's offer!"

"No! I won't let you go!" Sophia was already on the verge of tears as she tugged on his arm.

Cliff placed a sturdy hand on Fayt's shoulder. "Listen, this is crazy. Let's just take him out!"

Fayt's eyes opened wildly. "But if I can end this right now without anyone else getting hurt, why shouldn't I?"

"How do we know he's telling the truth?" Adray piped in from behind.

"My conditions," Luther said as if he hadn't been interrupted, "are but one. Come with me, and your friends here may continue to exist in a new universe of my choosing."

"What!" Peppita cried. "But what about _our_ friends and families?"

"Everything else will be erased."

"That's not fair!"

Luther glared at her. "I feel it is a very generous offer."

"For the likes of you, maybe." Cliff cracked his knuckles.

Luther approached Fayt slowly until he stood within inches of the boy. Fayt refused to flinch or take even one step away. But his grounded stance was shaken when the blond man reached out and seized his jaw roughly. "Well? What do you say?"

Fayt glared and everyone braced to attack. When he didn't answer, Fayt was shocked senseless as Luther's lips suddenly pressed against his. He hardly felt the sword slipping from his grasp. Hardly heard the metallic clattering of steel against the floor. Hardly sensed anything at all. It was if the world around him disappeared and only the cruel kiss and rough hands on his shoulders preserved his existence.

"Bastard!" Cliff shouted and sprung toward the pair with his fists balled tightly. He was only stopped from slamming one into the side of Luther's face by a long blade already pointed at the programmer's jugular. Cliff nearly fell over from the balance loss when he saw the bloodthirsty grimace on Albel's face, the swordsman's body crouched low in order to drive the blade in with more force when the cue came. Cliff was nearly as speechless as Fayt.

Luther felt the prick of sharp steel against his skin and slowly drew out of his forced embrace with Fayt. With even greater caution, he lifted his hands into the air to illustrate his willingness to surrender. But his voice reflected none of that. "Strangely passionate a reaction, wouldn't you say?" His blue eyes slit and swiveled to look at Albel from the side. "Does this boy mean so much to you?"

Albel growled. "I was just thinking how nice a maggot like you would look covered in blood."

Luther smirked and looked at a recovering Fayt. "Not nearly as good as _he_ would, I imagine." By this time, Fayt had viciously wiped his lips on the back of his hand, his green eyes poison upon Luther as he retrieved his sword.

"Shut up, sicko." Cliff spat. "No bargains, no deals. We're taking you out. Now!"

"By all means, try. You won't win. He's already mine."

The confident smile on Luther's pale lips triggered something in Albel. His blood boiled and he simply had to see red spilling. Normally during moments like this he didn't care whose it was, as long as it flowed freely enough to slake his thirst. But now there was something that tamed him from going completely berserk, stopped him from becoming the monster that, despite any rumors that claimed otherwise, had earned him his infamous nickname. He just wanted to see Luther dead. Nothing else mattered.

But as he moved to plunge the blade into the Creator's throat, the blonde swiftly maneuvered out of its way. Luther chuckled.

"It's not wise to attack rashly." Lifting a hand, Luther summoned a ball of light that sped from the bleeding floor into Albel's right arm.

The swordsman couldn't stifle a scream of pain and dropped his blade, his steel-encased arm twitching to instinctively clutch the wounded one. But he couldn't. Instead, he growled and dropped to his knees, blood spilling thickly from the charred laceration.

The response from the group was synchronized. Weapons were drawn and raised, spells were muttered, and feet rushed in Luther's direction. But the Creator swept his arm in a wide arc to dispel more condensed energy. The burning globes connected with each of their targets and everyone was knocked back. Everyone but Fayt, who had foreseen what was about to happen and had already began concentrating his will into casting a healing spell. But Luther had swung out with his staff to catch Fayt in the back and halted the execution of that spell.

Fayt dropped to one knee, the tip of his sword bracing him from falling. He coughed and a small stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Please sit still. I'd hate to have to kill you while I terminate your friends," Luther said to the blue-haired boy.

"You'll—pay—for that," Albel said between pants.

Luther swirled around and quickly sent the swordsman onto his back with a sharp foot in the chest. That foot wormed its way to the faintly smoking wound on Albel's arm. The Elicoorian vainly clamped his teeth like a vise to keep from screaming when Luther dug and swiveled his heel in the marred flesh. His cries echoed between the constant ticking of the clocks that lined the space.

"You fail to convince me that I'll do any such thing. You are all _weak_," Luther mocked.

Seeing Albel's agonized face accompanied by the groans of pain from the others behind him, Fayt felt himself seething with rage. The power that was instilled within his body stirred, though he could not find the will to release it. Deep inside, he feared that he would ultimately destroy himself and the others if he were to unchain such destruction. Fayt automatically drew back his arms and plunged his blade through Luther's turned back.

Staggering slightly, Luther turned slowly to face his assailant. He wore a cryptic smile under the blood that streamed from between his lips. Fayt saw red gushing in pulses from the programmer's belly. From the corner of his eye, he could see it pooling on the floor around Luther's feet.

Luther shook his head at Fayt. "I warned you, boy, and you should have listened. Now, I must eliminate you."

When Luther raised his hand to summon something from the floor, Fayt was already too paralyzed with pain to see what it was, or if it was even embodied. Something had a hold of him, crushed him, squeezed out his life second by second with every flex of its muscles.

He forced his eyes open, teeth clenched fiercely against the pain, and watched as Luther staggered toward one of the terminals. The man's eyes were blazing with madness as his fingers flew over the keys. Fayt couldn't tell what Luther was doing, but it was clear that its intent was malicious.

Luther eventually slowed his movements and finally dropped his arms down to either side to support his slumping weight. He breathed hard before whirling around and shooting a wild stare at Fayt. Even in his present condition, Fayt could tell that Luther was completely gone.

"So be it. But when this program is set in motion, even if you succeed in destroying me now, I will win. My will shall forever live on! Now, give in to absolute pain!"

Fayt couldn't hear himself screaming. He only felt agony like his mortal mind could never imagine. When blackness crept over his conscious eye, he was certain he would die. The darkness quickly consumed everything, and Fayt fell limp.

* * *

When he awoke, Fayt was surprised to find white light glaring from a clear blue sky above. He blinked several times to adjust his eyes. Sophia's blurred face moved into his line of vision.

"Am I … dead?"

The girl smiled. "No. You're fine. We're all fine."

Fayt sat up and was surprised to find that he was in no pain. He looked around, gradually focusing. "Then what happened? I was sure I blacked out."

Sophia nodded. "Yes, Fayt, you did. But we did it anyway. We beat the Creator." She paused to look at something behind him. "But it was mostly because of Cliff and Albel. They saved us."

"Yo! You're finally awake!" Cliff called and stepped up behind Fayt.

The blue-haired boy stood hastily and looked with such naked relief on Cliff that the blonde took a step back. But when Fayt saw Albel approach just behind, his happiness was transferred to the swordsman.

Sensing Fayt's overpowering emotions, Albel stopped and said, "If you even _attempt_ to embrace me, I'll run you through."

His voice was devoid of tyranny, though Fayt was not willing to try it anyway. He pounced on Cliff instead. "I'm so glad you're all okay."

Cliff stuck his tongue out at a wincing Albel and ruffled Fayt's blue hair. "Hey, it was no sweat."

"Somehow I don't believe you. But how come we're not hurt? And, where in the world did we end up?" Fayt released his arms from around the muscular man and looked at the rest of the group approaching them.

"We're not really sure just yet," Maria said.

"At least we're still alive. It was all because we prayed so hard," Peppita informed him.

"And we believed," Sophia added.

"Still," Maria said, "I can't help but feel like something's not right. What did Luther mean by what he said about that program?"

"Who cares? The nutjob's dead now," Cliff said. "More importantly we should be thinking about getting back."

"Back?" Fayt asked.

"Yeah. Come on, Fayt. I'm sure everyone else believed just as much as we did. If so, then everything must be back to normal. Your mom is probably worried sick," Sophia said and took his arm.

"And the troupe is probably wondering where I'm at," Peppita said and frowned.

"Then let's get moving. We'll find a way," Mirage said.

Everyone looked expectant, but Fayt couldn't help feeling sad. Now that he had seen what he had seen, learned all that he had learned, how could he go back and study symbology? The footprints he was meant to follow wound up at a dead end. His father was gone. He could never be the way he was before all of this happened.

For some unknown reason, he looked up at Albel. The Elicoorian was the only one not watching him. Albel's eyes were far away, staring blankly at the trees. The sight made Fayt's heart sink. What would the swordsman do now? He couldn't possibly go back to Elicoor and be content. He'd be completely alone.

"Fayt?" Sophia asked and rested her hand on his shoulder.

The blue-haired boy snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at her. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

As the Diplo's landing blew the grasses violently around their feet, the group watched the giant ship. Sophia and Fayt sat separated from the rest, talking about what they would do once they got back home. But a moment of silence fell between their good-natured conversing. Sophia suddenly pulled Fayt in and hugged him earnestly.

"I was having bad dreams, Fayt. I kept waking up thinking you were dead."

She said it so out of the blue that Fayt didn't react.

"It was such a horrible feeling; I cried every night. That's why I was talking to Mirage in the store that time. She'd heard me and made me tell her what was wrong. I felt embarrassed, but I actually really needed to tell somebody." Sophia paused and brushed a hair from her eyes.

Fayt was still surprised, but managed to cohere her words. "You had nightmares every night?"

The brunette nodded. "Every time it happened the same way. You're fighting someone whose face I can't see, and the sun turns bright red in the sky, like it's bleeding. The next thing I know, you're falling…. I thought that those dreams were trying to warn me. I didn't want to believe it. But when I saw you go unconscious, I …." Her face crunched as though she would suddenly cry.

Fayt pulled her into a tight hug. "It's okay, Sophia. They were just dreams. Everything's over now."

"I know," she said. "But it scared me. I don't ever want to lose you."

The ship settled onto the grass of the wide plain and the doors opened. The group, having all agreed to be transported to their own worlds, began to board.

"Let's go, they're waiting for us," Fayt said and helped her up.

From the time of their departure from the place where he had awakened to their arrival in the plain from which Mirage contacted the Diplo, everyone had been talking amongst one another animatedly. Plans for the future, resolutions, the things they missed. Only Albel was silent the entire time, and Fayt was painfully aware that he was the only one who had noticed or even cared.

Now, as he boarded the ship, he was beginning to rethink his trip back to Earth.

­­

* * *

To be continued…


	3. Misunderstandings

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Three

* * *

The halls of the Diplo softly echoed Fayt's steps as he walked the corridor that led to his room. He breathed in deeply, loving the purified air that circulated within the metal walls of the ship. It was comforting to be back in an environment he knew well.

It was late, and Fayt was alone in the halls. He was likely the only one still awake. But he couldn't sleep, no matter how much his body screamed for it. There was just too much on his mind. The meaning of all he had done and what he would do once he returned home were most prominent in his thoughts. But everything he came up with was inadequate. It just didn't make sense. He couldn't go home, go to school, and pretend he was just a normal person now. It was absurd. The question was, what exactly _did_ fate have planned for him after all was said and done?

Fayt was coming to approach Albel's door. He stopped before it, recalling the most genuinely depressed face he had ever seen on the warrior as they made their way into the ship. It was somewhat disturbing. Albel was not the type to show emotions that generally weren't hatred, amusement, or arrogance. Though Fayt knew that deep down Albel did have substance. No matter what had happened in the past, the man still had something left within that could be crushed. Fayt believed he saw it today, though he only had an idea as to why that was.

His feet automatically carried him closer to the door and he listened. No sounds came from the other side. He knocked and waited. There was no reply. What am I doing, Fayt thought, he's probably asleep anyway. He quickly moved away to steal back to his own room. He had barely made it three steps when the door behind him whooshed open. Fayt stopped and turned.

"How did I know it would be you," Albel said from the threshold, his chest and arms bare, except for the white bandages wound around the majority of his left arm.

Fayt smiled in the dim light of the corridor and shrugged. "Maybe you're psychic."

"Hn." Albel watched Fayt for a moment. "Well, are you planning on coming in or are you just going to stand there all night?"

Fayt accepted the pseudo invitation and entered Albel's room. The door slid shut behind him. The main lights of the room were off, and only the bedside lamp shed light in soft golden strokes against the walls. Albel sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his katana.

Fayt sat in the chair on the other side of the small room. "How are you feeling?" he asked, eyeing Albel's bandaged arm before letting them roam over the rest of his body. Albel was currently clad in only his skirt, his lean body bent over his work. A fine sheen of sweat glittered on his well-toned chest and biceps. Fayt looked away, quickly determining that his infatuation was not exactly dead yet.

The swordsman ran a sharpening stone slowly and carefully along the edge of the blade and didn't look up. "Fine. You?"

"I'm alright." Fayt looked at the shadows on the wall, wishing he wasn't always so damned graceless when it came to talking with this person.

"You'll be going back soon, right?" Albel asked disinterestedly.

Fayt barely nodded. He had forgotten that Albel wasn't watching him.

The scraping of rock over steel stopped and Albel looked up. "Well?"

Fayt blinked and met a red gaze. "I- I don't know."

Albel's eyes narrowed slightly. "What does that mean?"

Fayt toyed with his fingers. "I just don't know if I _can_ go back. So many things have happened…"

Albel snorted. "Tell me about it." He continued his work.

"I'm not sure I even want to, really." Fayt said this quietly, subconsciously hoping Albel would not hear him. But the swordsman did.

"Don't you want to be with your mother and Sophia?"

"I do, but…I just have this feeling that trying to go back to the way things were is going to make me miserable. Like there's something else that I need."

The Elicoorian set his sword and the sharpening stone down on the floor before wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Tossing the stray hairs from his eyes, he looked up at his companion. "What would that be?"

Fayt met Albel's eyes, and for the first time he wasn't inclined to yank them away out of discomfort. He was ensnared in that gaze. He wanted Albel to be the one to break it. But those crimson eyes weren't even blinking. For a long moment neither of them said anything, but simply watched one another's subtle reactions.

The union made Fayt's stomach fill with beating wings, and he felt his cheeks flush. Albel smirked then, and finally broke their eye contact.

"I see," Albel said and laid down to stretch out on his back.

"Huh? See what?"

"You truly are hopeless, worm."

Fayt furrowed his brow. He was about to request more clarification but couldn't find the words. Albel suddenly sat up. Fayt watched baffled as the Elicoorian yanked at the wrist end of his bandages. With the fluid grace of one who is well practiced at doing such an act, Albel unwound the length of bandages and tossed the white gauze to the floor. He held his scarred arm up into the light so that Fayt could see it clearly.

"You've been wanting to ask me about this." It was a statement rather than curiosity. Albel waited for Fayt to speak.

The blue-haired boy gave the older swordsman a confused look. "Well, yeah, sort of."

"Ask me."

Fayt reddened. "Um, well, how _did_ it happen?"

"These scars," Albel said and traced a finger over his marred forearm, "are the insignia of my damnation. I should have been the one to fall that day. But my father died instead. Just the way yours did."

Fayt's mouth fell open slightly. "I'm…so sorry, Albel."

"I'm not showing you this for pity, fool. You wanted to know."

Fayt closed his mouth and nodded.

"Doesn't it repulse you?"

"No! That's a dumb thing to ask. There's nothing about you that can repulse me." Fayt clamped his mouth shut firmly after saying that. He couldn't believe he had just let such a thing pass his lips. He might as well have told Albel that he wanted him.

Red eyes went wide for a moment before falling back into amused slits. A deep chuckle rumbled in Albel's chest. "If you'd seen some of the things I've done, you would never say that." He picked up the bandage from the floor and began to rewrap his arm.

"We can't change the past. You were a different person back then. I don't believe you have it in you to commit atrocities anymore."

Albel suddenly swept the long katana off the floor and in one feline movement had Fayt on his back on the floor with the blade pressed against the youth's throat. He straddled the boy's chest and hunched his back to hover over the sword.

Fayt was so surprised he held his breath, his green eyes wide in terror. Albel had the blade against his skin so that one movement might open his throat. He felt the recently sharpened blade scratch the side of his neck and liquid heat quickly follow.

"A-Albel? What are you doing?" Fayt whispered, trying to keep his throat from moving as he spoke.

"Don't. Think. You know me. You know _nothing_." Albel's gaze was feral.

Fayt closed his eyes to hold back the tears. "Please. Don't." His voice was desperate.

Slowly the blade was lifted away and Albel set it aside. All at once, he adjusted himself to straddle Fayt's lap and grabbed a fistful of the boy's shirt, yanking Fayt up abruptly to meet his lips. Fayt's eyes opened wide.

Albel Nox was kissing him.

He had waited for this moment with little belief that it would ever actually come to fruition; now that it was upon him he was not ready at all. He sat still, allowing Albel's whims without protest.

Albel kissed Fayt hard, occasionally biting the boy's lower lip and smoothing away the resulting trembles with a slow sliding tongue. But Fayt was being stubborn, or else the boy was still caught off guard, so Albel eventually bit the boy's lip hard enough to draw a gasp. He then forced his tongue into Fayt's mouth, snaking his fingers through fine blue hair.

When Albel's hot tongue coiled around his, Fayt melted. He groaned and decided to become a willing participant, despite how this scene was earned. His hands slid over the bareness of the older man's back, relishing at how incredibly fine the skin there was.

Albel released his mouth and maneuvered Fayt's head so that he could easily run his tongue through the blood that his sword had drawn from the boy's neck. He did it slowly, savoring the taste of the younger man, coating his tongue in the thick red essence before sucking more from the wound.

Fayt groaned in painful arousal. He was growing hard quickly from this act that was nothing short of vampirism, but he didn't so much mind the morbid quality of it. And since Albel was sitting on his lap, he was sure that the older man must have noticed.

"Wicked worm," Albel whispered in response. He brought Fayt's lips to his once more and forced Fayt to taste his own blood.

They kissed fervently with bloody mouths as Albel roughly began on Fayt's clothing. Luckily for him, the boy was no longer wearing those damned complicated boots, so his work was not going to be entirely stressful.

As soon as Albel's hands reached the clasps of Fayt's pants, the blue-haired boy turned his head away. He knew what as about to happen and reddened.

Albel pulled back and ran the backs of his fingers over his mouth to swipe away the moisture. "What?"

Fayt didn't look at him. "It's just that, I've never…"

Albel rolled his eyes. "Please. Spare me the 'mourning of innocence lost' act.'

Fayt was baffled. "But it's true! I really—"

"Shut up."

Albel pressed his mouth over Fayt's again to smother the other's words. He continued to work at the boy's clothes.

Fayt began to shake, despite his desire to keep calm. Didn't Albel believe that he was still a virgin? Was that so hard to take seriously? But the swordsman had shown signs of annoyance as soon as Fayt had begun to speak. Though he was frightened, he didn't want to risk losing Albel. Not this night. It might be the only chance he would ever get.

Before he knew it he was lying completely prone, Albel's head working between his legs. At first contact of the man's mouth on him, Fayt had lost his fear of the impending. Nothing filled his mind but tactile sensations. He had clamped his eyes closed; yet when he felt warmth slide down around him he couldn't help but reopen them. The sight of the vicious swordsman, eyes closed, mouth stretched to take him in, almost made Fayt come right then. He balled his fists and dug his fingernails firmly into his palms as he let himself fall further into the chasm.

Fayt shuddered deep and groaned when he suddenly emptied himself into Albel's mouth.

The older man straightened and spit Fayt's seed into his hand. He coated his own neglected member with the substance before gruffly commanding Fayt to turn over.

The blue-haired boy did so, but slowly and breathing deep. When Albel suddenly seized his hips to lift him, fingernails digging into his skin, Fayt gasped.

The first thrust made him scream.

Fayt felt his skin tear and blood begin to seep from the fresh wounds. He breathed in pants, trying to fight the pain rending his body. He didn't have much of a chance before the second thrust came, deeper than the first. He cried out again, tears already spilling from the corners of his eyes.

Albel raked his fingernails along Fayt's spine. "Yes, scream more. That's it. Nnnn, yesss."

Fayt whimpered involuntarily and pressed his hands to his face. "It hurts."

Albel didn't illustrate his acknowledgement of Fayt's revelation, if he heard it at all. He then built the two of them into a steady rhythm.

Fayt couldn't quell his tears, but bit on the side of his fist to muffle the aggravated sounds that he couldn't stop from escaping his mouth one after the other. Though he had fantasized once or twice over what this would be like, he had never imagined it could hurt that much.

"You're so noisy," Albel declared and changed his angle.

Fayt let out a surprised yelp when a pang of pleasure emerged from the sea of pain. That pain subsided when Albel continued his assault on that spot buried deep within him. Fayt groaned throatily. His eyes, closed, rolled back and he felt as though he would pass out from the torture. Without really meaning to, Fayt moved to encourage his swelling erection with shaky fingers.

Albel swatted the boy's hand away. "Stop that."

Fayt whimpered in agony. "But I…need more…"

Albel's hand snaked around Fayt's hip and squeezed the base of the boy's erection harshly.

Fayt lurched forward.

"This will be over when I decide it so," Albel hissed in the younger man's ear and thrust faster. "Do you understand?"

Fayt moaned at the accelerated momentum pummeling him from within and drooped his head, his mouth gasping for air.

Albel squeezed hard enough to make Fayt reflexively jerk away, but he held the boy fast. "Answer me."

Fayt bit his lip. "Yes."

"Good." He slowed his pace again. "Now, if you finish before I give my permission to do so, you will pay for it very painfully, _Fayt_."

The blue-haired boy nearly came undone at the husky voice quite deliberately articulating his name. He breathed deep and held it to keep his control. Fayt didn't want to know how Albel would react should he disobey, though it was clear that the older man was just as turned on as he was.

Albel eventually curled his own fingers around Fayt's erection and pumped it in time with his thrusts. "Is _this_ what you wanted, Fayt?'

Gods, but the man did it again. Albel was cruelly testing his self-control. There was no feasible way he could hold out if the man said it one more time…"Please…" Fayt breathed without meaning to.

Albel bent and bit the nape of Fayt's neck, building his momentum further. "Please what? Do you want it harder, Fayt? Faster?"

"Uungh…yes…Albel…!" Fayt tensed his muscles vainly to control his reactions. Yet he couldn't help but tumble over the edge when his seducer complied. Glittering white sparks flew behind his eyes and he violently came.

Albel seized a handful of Fayt's hair and yanked the boy's back up against his chest, further quickening his thrusts as he breathed raggedly. Fayt cried out in pained shock and brought his hands up to try to free his hair from the steel grip.

Albel made a sound like a mixture of snarling and groaning. "You…ungrateful…maggot..." He came soon after and dug burned fingers hard into the skin of Fayt's hip.

Once relinquished, Albel withdrew and fell to his side against the floor, breathing hard. After a moment of rest he stood and swiped up his skirt before briskly stepping into it. Thumbing a stray hair from his eyes, he sat upon the edge of the bed and retrieved his sword and stone. Sounds of metallic sliding cracked what would have otherwise been unbearable silence.

Fayt had risen to his knees and snatched his pants to his lap. He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt very awkward. Albel was acting as though nothing had even happened, let alone that Fayt was still in the room.

Fayt redressed slowly; his body felt as though it had just taken a beating. He shuffled through possible things to say. Offering praise for getting his brains skillfully fucked out was out of the question. Nor was asking Albel if he could sleep there appropriate. Maybe he should just leave.

Once fully dressed, Fayt glanced at Albel, who appeared to be completely absorbed in his work. Green eyes descended to the floor and Fayt turned to the door. Maybe it was all a mistake. It was clear that Albel either thought so or simply didn't care. He should never have come.

He wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that Albel hadn't tried to stop him or that the man didn't even bother to look up.

Fayt trudged back to his room through the sterile hallway, no longer enjoying its cold comforts.

* * *

The next morning wakened Fayt in a black mood. He had hardly slept at all, but paced about his room all night worrying. Fayt paused in front of the mirror and grimaced at the dark rings beneath his eyes. He rubbed at them and shrugged; he could always play it off as insomnia if he had to.

He changed his clothes into the simplest attire from the guest room's closet and decided to seek out something to eat, praying for as little interaction from the others as possible that day. But as he rounded the corner on his way to the stairs, he collided head-on with Cliff. The muscular blonde caught Fayt's shoulders to steady him.

"Whoa! Sorry 'bout that. I was just coming to get you." Cliff paused and lowered his head to get a good look at Fayt's face. "Um, I hate to be blunt, but you look like hell, Fayt. Didn't sleep well?"

Fayt smiled weakly and nodded.

Cliff suddenly grabbed Fayt's chin and moved the boy's head back and to the side. "What happened to your neck!"

Damn. Fayt had forgotten all about that. The wound probably looked awful from not being treated. "I cut myself shaving," he lied.

Cliff snorted. "Right. It must be pretty hard shaving with a sword, especially when you have yet to grow a beard at all."

Fayt tensed. He should have known that Cliff would recognize a cut from a sword despite how dense the man usually was. "It's nothing, really."

Cliff looked skeptical. His eyes narrowed as they wandered over the bruises surrounding the cut. Finally, he grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on, you need to get that bandaged up."

They entered the sick bay a bleak sight. The woman on duty stood and addressed them with a pair of wide eyes. Cliff looked pissed and Fayt was practically a zombie trailing behind him.

"My goodness. What's the problem?" she asked.

"This kid's got a nice decoration on his throat I was hoping you could fix up," Cliff said and all but flung Fayt onto the bed.

"S-sure. I'll take a look."

Fayt sat wearily on the edge of the bed and refused to look at Cliff. The irritation in the blonde's voice was naked, and Fayt feared the worst. But Cliff couldn't possibly be that perceptive. Still, the weight of the man's eyes bored against his lowered head.

"Make sure he gets some sleep too, would you?" the blonde asked and left the room once the doctor nodded.

* * *

That evening, the group met together for supper. Fayt had awoken several hours after having taken the sleeping drugs when the doctor informed him of the announcement. He felt a little better after his rest, but was still famished.

After making a trip back to his room to straighten out the mess of his hair and change into a high-necked shirt to conceal the bandages, he joined the others. Every seat around the long table was taken but one, and that one happened to be between Cliff and Albel. Great.

Fayt sat gingerly and answered greetings all around. Sophia sat across from him, beaming. She immediately commenced in striking up a conversation with him about what they would do once they got home. He had prompted her into doing most of the talking so that he wouldn't have to think or act.

It was nothing new that Albel was not involved in any conversations, but Fayt felt a silence between them that pressed brutally on his consciousness. He nodded at Sophia and lifted his glass to his mouth to hide unsmiling lips.

* * *

Cliff was aware that something was amiss. Usually on social occasions no one ventured to speak with Albel except for Fayt. The boy had a stubborn notion that he could bring the swordsman out of his shell. But Fayt was the only one Albel really spoke with. It was obvious the two were friends and related to one another more than the others could perceive. But tonight they were pointedly ignoring each other.

Something had clearly happened between the two of them last night. Given Fayt's depressed mood, which was very out-of-character, Cliff assumed it was Albel who had hurt the blue-haired boy. He had not been blind to certain recent looks between the two of them and had even conceived the notion that Fayt had a crush on the older swordsman. As much as he disapproved of such a thing (in fact it gave him the creeps to imagine it at all), he couldn't do anything to stop it. But if Albel forced Fayt into doing anything against the boy's will…

* * *

Once supper had ended, and everyone retired to his or her rooms, Cliff went straight to Albel's door. The swordsman answered promptly and looked disappointed with the one who stood on the other side.

"What do you want?" Albel all but snarled.

"I was hoping you could help me out," Cliff answered with equal disdain.

"What, you've bulked up too much to get your clothes off? Sorry, but I can't help you there." Albel moved to press the button next to the door.

Before the structure could lock against him, Cliff threw out his hand and pushed it back open. The machine whined against the force overwhelming it.

Albel crossed his arms and sneered. "Please come in."

Cliff stepped into the room. "I'll get straight to the point."

"One would hope," Albel growled.

Cliff breathed deeply to resist the urge to strike the swordsman. "Were you with Fayt last night?"

Albel looked surprised for a brief moment before assuming his usual indifferent countenance. "Hmph. What if I was?"

The blonde ground his teeth. "I couldn't help but notice the strange way he was acting today. Not to mention the cut on his neck that was obviously made with a sword. Now, I can't possibly be overreacting to think that you had something to do with that, can I?"

Albel rolled his eyes. "I thought you said you would get straight to the point. If you had, you would have asked me whether or not I raped him, right?"

Cliff seized Albel's shoulders hard and shoved the other up against the wall. His voice was deadly. "Don't you _dare_ mock me. I put up with a lot of your bullshit, but I will _not_ tolerate this, Nox. So go ahead. Give me a reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now."

Albel was unfazed. "Fool. As usual, you jump hastily to conclusions. I haven't said or done anything to provoke vengeance. _He_ came to _me_."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Red eyes narrowed into amused slits. "I don't care what you believe. But know this, he screamed my name when he came. How does it feel, maggot, knowing that you didn't get him first?"

The swordsman ducked down just in time to avoid the fist that plowed a hole in the steel wall. Escaping to the other side of the room, he swept up his katana. Assuming a fighting stance, Albel smirked at Cliff.

"You bastard," the blonde spat.

"Come on then, worm. But don't blame me when you end up dead before morning."

"I'll pulverize you!" Cliff sprung into Albel's direction, steel knuckles at the ready.

"STOP IT!"

Both men looked with surprise at the open door where Fayt was standing, a look of horror on his face.

"Fayt," Cliff said paternally, "you don't have to protect this jerk."

"What are you talking about?" the blue-haired boy demanded angrily.

"He hurt you, and I'll be damned if he thinks he can get away with it."

Fayt wavered. So Cliff had figured it out. The last thing he wanted to spill out into the open and he totally screwed it up. Bracing himself against the doorframe, Fayt pressed a tired hand over his eyes. "No. Albel didn't do anything wrong. I was the one that provoked him." He felt his face grow hot. Why was this happening?

Cliff looked back at Albel, who shrugged as if to say 'I told you so.' He turned again to Fayt and shook his head in disbelief. "Fayt, you…you can't seriously want to get involved with this guy. Can you?"

Fayt lowered his hand over his mouth and looked at Albel. The swordsman was looking at the floor. Green eyes then moved to meet Cliff's. "I wanted to go with him. Back to Elicoor II."

Albel looked up then, lips parted in disbelief.

Fayt looked away. "I'll understand if you hate me for that."

Cliff rubbed at his forehead and sighed. "I…really don't understand."

Fayt laughed wearily. "But it doesn't matter anymore, because I changed my mind. I'll go back to Earth. Back to where I belong."

Fayt didn't wait for a reaction from either of them, but pushed himself away and stalked back to his room. He would not be the weak one that others fought over. He would not be injured by Albel's cruel slight. He would forget this ever happened and return to his home planet with Sophia; that was the way it should be. How in the world did he even imagine for a moment that going to Elicoor with Albel would work out? Fayt forced a bitter laugh, cursing the tears burning behind his eyes.

* * *

To be continued...

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Glad to know you're enjoying it thus far. Now that I look over what I have, though I realize each chapter is pretty long, I wonder if the progression's too fast. I don't know. Opinions and suggestions are welcome. Oh, and I had most of this already written, so don't be deceived be my fast updates. Though I will try to get future chapters up asap.


	4. Alternative

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Four

* * *

"Hey, wait! Fayt!" Cliff yelled after the boy. "Dammit."

Seeing that Fayt wasn't about to come back, he whirled on Albel, glaring furiously. "Well? Are you so cold that you won't even go after him?"

Albel grimaced. "Tch. What for? If he's a man, he can deal with it."

Cliff lashed out a fist so suddenly it was nearly impossible to see. It struck Albel squarely in the corner of the mouth, sending the swordsman stumbling back against the wall. The connection between hard bones and splitting flesh echoed in the room.

Albel was too stunned to react at first. He watched Cliff with wide eyes and parted lips that already released a river of blood down his chin.

The blonde allowed Albel no time to compose himself. He threw out his left hand and wrapped it threateningly around the Elicoorian's neck, squeezing hard enough to keep the other in place, but not so hard that it would crush the breath out entirely. "He's still a kid as far as I'm concerned. And you're an evil bastard for misleading him like this, after all he's been through."

Albel tried to cough, but the fingers gripping his throat prevented him. Remembering the sword still clutched in his hand, he jammed the hilt hard into Cliff's abdomen. The blonde folded in sudden pain and released his hold, allowing Albel to take advantage of the switched roles and push Cliff away forcefully with his foot.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me again, maggot," Albel growled and spit a stream of blood at Cliff's feet.

"I'll smash your face for that," Cliff said and straightened in obvious pain. He prepared to throw another punch.

Albel snarled, eyes blazing, lifting his sword with obvious intent. But before he could bring it down with crushing force upon Cliff's shoulder, the blonde reached out a hand and caught the blade hard near the hilt, pushing it back. The skin of his palm split open immediately and blood flowed in torrents down his arm, dripped from the sword's crossguard. But neither was prepared to relent; they stood against one another, teeth bared, red spotting the floor.

"Give it up already, worm. Nobody wants you as his hero," Albel proclaimed blackly.

Cliff unflinchingly tightened his grip. "That's fine. But I still don't like you."

The swordsman offered a sardonic grin, baring bloodstained teeth.

"I'm not the only one, either. Nobody wanted you to come with us. You don't _belong _here, Nox, and you never did. Soon as we dump you off on that ball of dirt you call a planet it's all over. Fayt might have showed you unconditional pity all this time, but you went and royally screwed that up didn't you? What do you have now?"

The stubborn grin dissolved from Albel's face. "Shut up."

Cliff pushed on, ignoring the blade sinking deeper into his flesh. "Did you hear what he said? He was ready to give up his future to go with you. Did you even notice that he might have actually cared for you?"

Albel's teeth were grinding. "Shut the hell up."

"Of course you didn't. Sadistic murderers aren't capable of things like that anyway."

Ruby eyes flashed pure hatred at that word and Albel saw red. He momentarily lost his awareness and no longer cared what happened. He was only vaguely conscious of his forehead slamming into something hard before his arms acted. When his vision cleared he saw that he had Cliff on the floor, the blade buried in the side of the man's abdomen so deep it scraped against the metal floor. Cliff was howling.

Albel yanked the sword out swiftly, fully taking in the scene before him. Regret frosted the outskirts of his mind, but he refused to move. He had never really meant for it to get this serious. But damn it, the ape had it coming.

"Oh my god! Cliff!"

Albel lifted his head and caught the familiar stream of Maria's blue hair as she rushed to the blonde's side. She fell to her knees and instantly checked the severity of the injury. When her eyes suddenly shot ice in Albel's direction, the swordsman looked away.

Maria's eyes roved the bruising split on Albel's lip before returning to the Klausian. "What the hell is going on here!"

Cliff groaned and sat up. "Forget it, Maria."

The girl quickly pressed her hands against his chest. "Don't do that! You're injured, Cliff!"

"It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine tomorrow." The blonde slowly stood and covered his abdomen with a hand to stop the blood. "Tell Marietta to change course to Elicoor II. We're taking _him_ back first."

Maria stood and protested more but Cliff was already staggering away. She bounded to catch up and offer him her arm, but not until casting a vexing look over her shoulder. "Please wait here until I return," she said, though it was more a command than a request.

Albel silently watched the two leave the room and stood still until the sound of their steps faded. Then, exhaling, he tossed the sword angrily aside and slumped heavily down onto the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to ease the pounding behind them. The sound of rushing blood thundered in his ears.

* * *

In truth, Cliff's wounds were not critical beneath all the blood, and his pure Klausian genes would have him healed up within hours. Though Maria had wanted to keep the issue of his and Albel's brawl quiet, it was soon known throughout the ship that something was amiss once she complied with the former captain's demand that the ship head to Elicoor II first, even though Moonbase was the closest initial stop. Naturally, a change in course had to be broadcasted over the loudspeakers. Gossip buzzed through the halls, though no one knew just what had happened.

Fayt had been dozing from the lingering effects of the sleeping pills when the announcement came on. He laid there for a long moment even after Maria's voice faded into the normal silence. Fayt didn't need to hear anything more than that simple declaration to know what had happened. He threw the coverlet away and sat up, wondering if they were both still alive. Obviously Albel was. Even if Cliff had slaughtered him, it was doubtful that they would be going to Elicoor to deliver his remains to Airyglyph as a priority. And there would probably be more of a fuss if something happened to Cliff. But still…

Fayt threw on his shoes and made his way directly to Albel's room. The door was still open when he got there, though no one was inside. He was about to head toward the sick bay but stopped dead in the doorway and stared. There was blood on the floor. Fayt clapped a hand over his mouth, panic welling in his stomach. He bolted through the corridor toward the stairs, nearly knocking over one of the crewmen in his haste. The man barked a curse at him but Fayt didn't stop.

The door slid open and Fayt watched Cliff and the doctor look up at him with surprise. Green eyes wildly searched the white bandages wrapped securely around Cliff's lower torso and hand, but it didn't appear as though the Klausian was hurt too badly.

"Cliff…" Fayt breathed.

The blonde offered his usual careless grin. "Hey, don't make that face. It doesn't suit you."

Fayt was indignant. "Don't joke around! What in the world did you guys do to each other?"

Cliff dropped his smile and looked the boy levelly in the eyes. "Listen, Fayt, I know you don't want to hear it, but I had to do it."

"Is he okay?" It was clear that they were the only ones that had been in the room.

Cliff turned to the doctor and offered her a charming smile. "Would you mind letting us talk in private for a moment, babe?"

The doctor gave him a disapproving look but complied. Once she had gone, Cliff turned back to Fayt.

"I can't believe you did this," Fayt said immediately. "You had no right to start a fight over something that doesn't involve you at all."

The Klausian looked angry. "Doesn't involve me? You know, when I first met you I told you it was my job to protect you until you were brought aboard this ship. But I never stopped looking after you, Fayt, and it wasn't because I knew how important you were. It was because I actually cared about you. No matter what, I'll always care about you."

"Then why?"

Cliff sighed. "He doesn't love you, Fayt. He doesn't love anything. He'd sooner kill something than try. He was only using you."

Fayt opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to protest.

"I just don't get how you could fall for someone like that when there are so many people out there that do love you. You deserve someone that does."

Fayt swallowed thickly. "I don't know what I deserve. There might be people that care for me, but I know deep down they're afraid. Who would want to be in love with the embodiment of destruction anyway?"

"Fayt, it's not like th—"

"It is! I've even seen it in your eyes, Cliff."

The blonde did not reply; he would be lying if he denied that in particular, but he did not agree with Fayt.

The boy continued. "That's what I liked about Albel. He's never looked at me that way. Not even after he found out what I was. What I'm capable of. If anything, he respects me more for it."

"That doesn't make it alright."

Fayt suddenly grew irritated. "What happened between us was my decision. He doesn't have to care about me if he doesn't want to."

"Come off it, Fayt. I know you're not cheap like that and so do you. Stop fooling yourself."

"I never asked for your help, Cliff. I can handle my own life just fine without you protecting me all the time." Fayt began toward the door but was halted abruptly by a firm hand around his wrist.

Cliff was looking into his eyes with such uncustomary seriousness that Fayt almost dropped his mouth in shock. "Listen, if you really don't want to go back home, then come with us."

His mouth fell open then. "What?"

"If you want a new life, then just stay here. I promise I won't protect you anymore."

Fayt was speechless. He wasn't sure he had even heard right.

Cliff smiled weakly. "You don't have to decide right now; consider it an open invitation." He released Fayt's arm slowly. "But I wouldn't mind, and I'm sure everyone else feels the same. Actually, I've been wanting to bring it up for a while, but I guess I just thought it would sound stupid. Maybe that's why I flew off the handle when you said you wanted to go with Albel. So, ugh, I'm sorry."

It was all so sudden that Fayt could do nothing but simply stare at him.

"Anyway, the rat's fine. Maria moved him to a different room until we get to Elicoor II. It's the room in the opposite corridor."

Fayt took that as a cue to retreat and began to do so.

Cliff watched him for a reaction but did not receive one. "Fayt?"

The blue-haired boy stopped but did not turn around.

"Just think about what I've said, okay?"

He nodded once and left the room. His legs felt like lead as he moved back toward the stairs leading to the lower level of the ship. What was happening all of a sudden? Life seemed to be less chaotic when Luther controlled it.

Once Fayt had gone, the doctor reentered the room and raised a questioning eyebrow at Cliff. He shrugged and cracked his face into a wide grin. "Got any more of those painkillers?"

"Now Cliff, you know you can't fool me with that one anymore," she said with her hands on her hips.

The blonde's face fell into a mock snarl. "Damn."

The woman was still looking at him with open expectancy. Cliff scratched the back of his head and dropped his playful air. "Aaagh, he would barely hear me out."

"So he's going back to Earth after all?"

Cliff flopped down onto his back and rested his hands behind his head. "He didn't say. But at least he's got another option. I just hope he makes the right decision."

The doctor sat down in her chair and studied him carefully. A moment of quiet passed. "You really care for him, huh?"

Cliff rolled his head in the opposite direction. "Well that's what happens when you go around with someone for a long time like this, you kinda get used to having them around. Besides, I guess I can't blame him for not wanting to go back home. At least he'd be safer here, you know?"

A small smile hugged the doctor's lips but she said nothing. She turned and began typing on her console. Muted electronic sounds filled the stillness in the room.

* * *

Fayt numbly made his way to the door where Cliff had mentioned in the sublevel of the ship, wondering if perhaps the swordsman was being detained there. He stopped before it and looked up. Though he was worried over Albel's condition, he was sure that knocking on the door at this hour and after such an incident would reward him with cold silence. Well, there was still a little time left before they would arrive at Elicoor, which meant that he might be able to see Albel some time tomorrow. That was if the stubborn warrior would leave the room. Knowing Albel, the fight with Cliff would have him riled up through the next day. But as Fayt turned away, he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep. He decided to wander about the ship for a while instead.

As he meandered toward the lounge, he saw Maria walking toward him from the bridge. She looked as though she had something to tell him and Fayt moved to meet her halfway.

"Fayt, how are you doing? You're not sick are you?" she asked once they stopped.

Fayt shook his head. "No, I'm doing okay. What about you?"

"I suppose you heard about what happened from Cliff?"

He nodded.

"He was insistent that we take Albel back home first, and well, knowing how bullheaded Cliff can be sometimes that's not too surprising. But I just wish I knew why they were fighting like that. Neither of them would tell me anything."

"You know them. They haven't liked each other from day one," Fayt offered.

Maria thought. "But Albel _stabbed_ Cliff. That's nothing like their routine arguing."

"Yeah…I know."

Maria crossed her arms and studied him. "Really, it feels like I'm being kept in the dark about something here."

Fayt caught her implication and snapped to attention. "Oh, no. I really don't know anything about it. But as long as they stay away from each other it'll be okay, right?" Well, it wasn't like he was obligated to tell her things that she didn't need to know. Besides, if Cliff hadn't said anything there was no point in bringing anything up.

"Hmm. I suppose so. We'll be arriving at Elicoor II in two days, but…" Maria's face brightened. "Hey, Fayt, would you mind keeping an eye on Albel until we get there? I hate to ask but you seem to be the only one he gets along with, and I don't want any more skirmishes on my ship. I'll take care of Cliff."

Fayt was surprised but agreed. "Um, sure. I'll do my best."

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you." She looked at her watch and groaned. "Sorry, Fayt, I'd like to talk with you longer but I've got some things I need to see to. If anything comes up just let me know. Otherwise I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Goodnight, Maria."

She gave a short wave and hurried away down the corridor. Fayt watched after her, sighing inwardly before dropping into a chair and resting his forehead on the heels of his palms. He hated feeling like this, and since he had come to really like everyone on the ship, especially Maria, taking part in secret affairs felt all the more like acts of betrayal. He and Maria had both undergone genetic alterations, fought together, and in a way he considered her a sort of sister. Besides, she was the captain of this ship. He didn't want anything correlating to himself to reflect badly upon her.

Fayt leaned back and stretched his legs out. So what should he do now? He doubted if Albel was asleep, but going down and standing guard at the man's door would be asinine. If Albel knew he had a watchdog he'd probably despise Fayt forever, if he didn't already. The boy shut his eyes against the light, musing deeply. He gradually fell into a troubled sleep.

* * *

He was lying on a grassy hill, the cool summer wind gently flowing over his skin when he opened his eyes. The long stem that he chewed on arched over his face and swayed hypnotically in the breeze. It was still twilight, but the stars were so bright that the entire land was bathed in silver light. A lighter blue bar had settled over the eastern horizon, indicating that the sun would rise soon.

Everything was quiet but for the sound of the wind through the grass and trees. He watched the stars twinkle high above, not wanting to move. It was too comfortable, too peaceful. Where was he, anyway?

The sound of vegetation-muted footsteps approaching suddenly perked his ears and he tilted his head in their direction. Someone tall and slim was walking toward him, but he couldn't make out whom it was. He squinted to get a clearer look.

"I thought you were going to start a fire."

He sat up, bracing his weight with his arms behind him. "Sorry, I was enjoying the view too much."

The man was now before him, one hand on his hip. "Hn. A typical fool, as always." The man then kneeled down beside him.

He recognized the other as Albel now that he could see clearly, though he already knew that it was. But why were they the only ones there? Where was everyone else?

Albel leaned forward and bit the stem out of Fayt's mouth before spitting it aside. He adjusted his body shamelessly up against Fayt's, his mouth feather-brushing the other's. "I was looking forward to something hot."

He felt warm with self-consciousness. "Then why don't you make it yourself?" Where in the world did that come from!

Albel smirked in approval and hooked his fingers into the collar of Fayt's shirt. He ripped the zipper open easily and violently yanked the material down its owner's arms. "Don't tell me what to do."

It was then that he noticed that Albel was not wearing his claw, but more than that, his left arm was no longer marred.

He gasped at the kiss of cool wind on his bared skin and groaned at the warm tongue that took over. Those hands were already opening his pants and tugging them down. He wanted to look around just to be sure that they were alone, but he head wouldn't obey. He just watched Albel strip him and then himself. He was already turned on, but the doubt that he felt wouldn't go away. He shyly tried to maneuver his legs. But his body acted oppositely, and he was lying down on his back with his legs open. He felt his lips part in a coy smile.

"I don't have to tell you twice, do I?" Albel said and accepted the invitation.

The man's body heat filled him unnaturally, and he felt like his skin was burning. He wanted to wriggle away, but instead he clamped his hands on Albel's hips. "So? What are you waiting for?"

Albel lifted his hips and penetrated him so deeply that his initial reaction was to cry out. But he only groaned and squeezed the skin caught in his grip. The pain he expected was not there, though every point of contact between his and Albel's body was a scorching fire. It burned, but the agony was bliss. He decided to forget about struggling and just go along with the ride.

He had never felt anything so physically crippling in terms of pleasure. He didn't know just when the fear that such a thing might kill him entered his mind, but he suddenly acknowledged it. But if he wanted to stop this, it was far too late.

When he reached the edge it was as if time stopped and he was pushed out of his body, free to climb to the heavens. But he was only able to touch that eternity for a second before his plummet back down began. They were both sweating, and the predawn breezes were soon cold. He shivered to the bone.

Albel suddenly moved away. "The sun will be up soon. We should get going."

He looked with confusion at the man standing over him. "Why? It's so nice here."

Albel voice became urgent. "I don't want to see it! Now get up!"

He obeyed and began to dress. What was Albel suddenly so afraid of? The sunrise? But that was ridiculous. "What? Are you gonna turn to ash or something?" He didn't like the tone of his voice when he said that. There was no concern in it whatsoever. It felt as though he was purposely stalling.

Albel turned to face him. "Would you care?"

Suddenly the dawn broke into the indigo of the sky. Streaks of red cracked across its surface like snakes. Intense discomfort filled him when he looked at them, but he didn't know why. But when he looked back to where Albel was standing, he saw that the man was already gone.

He was overcome with the urge to run after, whichever way that was, but his legs wouldn't move. His skin grew colder as the sun rose higher. All he could do was watch as the land adopted the vermilion light, like a field of blood.

* * *

Fayt awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up from his slumped position in the chair and looked around. No one was about in the ship and everything was still quiet. He breathed deeply. It was just a dream. He stood and began toward the opposite end of the corridor, wondering how long he had been asleep.

His footsteps echoed metallically as he descended the stairs, which was nothing new, but something about the silence served to renew his uneasiness. As he turned the corner to go to his room, he saw that someone was leaning against the wall outside his door. It was Albel.

Fayt's first reaction was to stop and run away, but he quickly realized how strange and ridiculous that would be. He kept walking, refusing to flinch when Albel's head lifted and pierced him with a red gaze. His eyes quickly found the bruise and small cut on the corner of the swordsman's lip, but nothing else seemed to be out of the ordinary.

He was within a foot of the door and about to express his concern over Albel's condition, but the Elicoorian spoke first. "I want to speak with you. Now." There was no room in his statement for any protest.

Fayt stopped and blinked. An image from his dream flitted past his mind's eye and his face grew warm. "Okay." He couldn't think of anything better to say. He went inside first, already wondering what it was that Albel wanted to say. He was terrified.

The door closed behind them and Fayt turned around to face the warrior. Albel didn't have his sword with him. Strange.

"Did you mean what you said back there?" Albel asked bluntly.

Fayt instantly understood that Albel was referring to his desire to go to Elicoor II. He looked down and nodded. "But I didn't think you'd mind. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that's happened."

Albel snorted. "I didn't come here for an apology."

"I didn't ask Cliff to do that."

"I know that, fool. You needn't state such useless things."

"But why did you stab him, Albel? Were you guys just going to kill each other?"

"That was not intentional." Albel refused to say any more on the subject.

At least he was acting like himself now, and Fayt believed him. He met scarlet eyes but this time Albel was the one to look away. He was clearly uncomfortable with whatever he was going to say.

"Look, I didn't think you were serious. I knew what you wanted, it was obvious to even the most dimwitted fools with eyes in their heads, so I gave it to you, as a sort of farewell."

Fayt's eyes went wide. His anger was steadily rising, but he remained quiet to force Albel to say more.

Albel grimaced. "I'm…sorry you took it the wrong way."

Fayt was indignant. "That's it? You didn't need to come here to tell me that, I could have figured it out myself."

"No. That's not it." Albel's tone had elevated to match Fayt's. "But if you want I will go and leave you to your sulking."

He began to do just that but Fayt stopped him. "Wait. I don't want you to go." He was strangely relieved when the swordsman stopped. "What did you want to tell me?"

Albel turned halfway but didn't look at Fayt. "I won't object if you still want to come."

Fayt's stomach did something strange. It was like a mixture of nausea and excitement. "What?"

"Tch. Don't make me repeat myself."

Fayt was astounded at the turnaround. "But, you just said…"

"I'm just as surprised as you. I don't know why, but I think you should come with me. Though I never expected someone like you to desire something so illogical when he's got so many friends."

Fayt understood everything that Albel refused to say. Any anger and indignation he felt before dissolved. "I don't know why either, but, I think we've got a lot in common, at least."

"Bah. You're nothing like me."

Fayt smiled to himself. "But we fight well together."

It was Albel's turn to smile, though Fayt couldn't see it. "I cannot refute that. You have the uncanny ability to stay out of my way."

Fayt suddenly thought of what Cliff had said. _'He doesn't love you, Fayt.' _But did he really want Albel to love him? Maybe he just wanted to be near him. Wasn't it good enough if Albel wanted the same thing? But Cliff had extended his own invitation as well. Fayt wouldn't deny that he thought of Cliff as a very good friend and would have accepted that invitation instantly if not for that pull in the other direction. It was clear that Albel needed him far more than Cliff did. And he may have had his own need as well.

"Albel?"

The addressed looked up.

"I'll go with you."

* * *

To be continued… 


	5. Farewells

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Five

* * *

When the knock at his door roused him, Fayt was grateful for the full night's sleep he had gotten, though it was through the help of a couple of sleeping pills that the doctor had insisted that he take with him. He stretched briefly and made his way to the front of the room, still wearing the clothes from the night before. He had been in such a tangle of physical and mental strains that all he had wanted to do once Albel had left was fall into a state of total unconsciousness. He was slowly remembering everything that had happened in the past few days as his awareness from deep sleep returned to him. Once he pushed the button for the door to open and saw Sophia's glowing face waiting for him on the other side, he remembered everything that he had said to Albel. Instead of greeting her, Fayt stared blankly into her eyes. He would have to tell her. And he wasn't ready at all.

Sophia twisted her face into a mixture of confusion and amusement. She passed her hand in an arc before his face to get his attention. "Are you still sleeping there, Fayt?"

He blinked twice and focused. She was smiling at him so sweetly that he imagined that there could not possibly be any hidden intentions behind that face. She held a box filled with bags of dehydrated fruits and two bottles of water.

"Erm, I was hoping you would share these with me, if you're not busy." Sophia cast a quick look behind him into the room as if to confirm that he really had nothing to do.

Guilt settled like cement in his stomach. How could he tell her that he was leaving her to fend for herself from then on? That he was choosing to spend his life with someone he barely knew over a longtime childhood friend? Would she ever forgive him something like that?

Fayt smiled. "Sorry. I just woke up." He motioned her into the room. "You must've been reading my mind, Sophia. I was dying of thirst."

She perked up at his attention and handed him one of the bottles. "You just seem really beat lately, Fayt. Mirage said that these have a lot of energy, so you'd better eat a lot of them," she said in a joking manner and settled down in a chair.

Once Fayt finished half the bottle he obediently rummaged through the bags holding various fruits. He pinched up the most brightly colored one—chunks of something orange—and tore it open. "Thanks."

Sophia plucked out a few dried berries and talked between them. "Hey do you have any idea what's going on? I was sure that we were headed to Moonbase, but now we're going to Elicoor. Do you think something's wrong?"

Fayt watched her for a moment, imagining her reaction. He didn't want to stall forever. The sooner the better. She deserved to be told the truth anyway. "Sophia, listen,"

"Oh!" Sophia suddenly cried and made a pained face. "This one is really sour." Her expression softened and she laughed at herself. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Well, you probably shouldn't tell anyone this, but the reason we're going to Elicoor first is because Cliff and Albel got in a fight."

Sophia's eyes widened. "Was it serious? Why were they fighting? Are they hurt?"

Fayt shook his head. "No, they're fine. Cliff just got upset so he had them change course. But that's not what I wanted to tell you,"

"I know, it's fine. I promise I won't tell anybody about it, although, I don't really think anyone would be surprised to hear about those two arguing."

"It was more than just an argument. They were out for each other's blood this time."

Sophia hid her mouth with her hand. "Oh my."

"Sophia, I have to tell you something." Damn, how was he going to explain this without making himself look crazy, especially after telling her about Cliff's and Albel's recent fight? She was waiting with obvious expectancy. He took a deep breath and decided to just blurt it out. "Once we stop at Elicoor, I'm not getting back on the ship."

She smiled in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

Fayt averted his eyes. "I can't go back home with you. I'm staying there."

Her smile melted completely. "Fayt, don't joke like that."

"I'm serious, Sophia."

"But why? Where would you stay? What would you do?" Her voice gradually elevated in shock.

"I was thinking about living in Kirlsa. Maybe traveling and helping out where the wars damaged the towns. I could do more there than I could on a planet that's already advanced."

Sophia shook her head in an effort to understand. "But what about school? And your mom?"

"I'm not going to study symbology anymore. Not after I've seen what it's done, what it's done to me. And I'm sure Mom would understand."

The girl was quiet in contemplation for a moment. "So, you don't want to see me anymore?"

Fayt looked up. "That is _not_ it, Sophia. You're my best friend."

"I don't understand. What made you decide this all of a sudden, Fayt?"

Fayt studied the fruits in his hand. For a while neither of them said anything.

"Isn't Kirlsa where Albel lives?"

Fayt looked up, slightly surprised that she had said this. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Sophia studied him, tears forming in her eyes. He was fidgeting, not looking at her, and obviously uncomfortable. The conclusion was coming down on her like a knife through flesh. "You're leaving me for him?"

"Sophia, it's not really that I'm leaving you, it's just that—"

"Then what would you call it?" She was crying now.

Fayt stood and went to her. Sophia passively allowed him to hug her tightly for a moment before she couldn't help but give in and return his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm not doing this to hurt you. It's just that something tells me that this is what I have to do."

"But, I don't understand him at all. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"He's not going to hurt me. I'm sure of it."

"Fayt, I—" she broke off in a fit of sobs.

Tears of his own fell unwillingly from Fayt's eyes and the two just held each other for a long time.

Once Sophia had quieted down, she declared that she was tired. Fayt walked her back to her room and promised he'd come back to visit her in the afternoon. When she agreed and sadly closed the door behind her, Fayt felt his chest muscles squeeze tightly. He knew he had just bruised her feelings, but she would certainly get over it in time. It wasn't like it was goodbye forever. Cliff probably had some sort of device that could keep them in contact with one another through time and space. Well, depending on how well Cliff took the rejection to his offer for Fayt to stay that is.

Fayt decided to search the blonde out. Better to get the hardest ones done first than to procrastinate and suffer for it. Though he was sure that at least Cliff wouldn't cry about it. Or at least he hoped as much.

He began in the direction of the sick bay but decided that the Klausian probably would have no need of being there, considering how fast that particular race seemed to recover from their wounds. Fayt stopped and rounded the opposite corner toward Cliff's room instead, where he collided with the man he was seeking.

Cliff held on to Fayt's arm to keep him from falling backward. "We've really gotta get Peppita to put bells on our shoes or something," he said and laughed.

"No kidding," Fayt answered as he recovered his balance. "Maybe I'll ask her later."

"You're looking a lot less like a zombie today. Those pills are great aren't they?"

"Yeah. I guess I really needed to sleep. You look like you're doing better too."

"Heh. I'm practically invincible."

"Sure, Cliff."

"So where were you headed?"

"To see you, actually."

"Is that so? Well I was headed to the bridge if you want to take a walk."

"Sounds good."

As the two set out toward the stairs, Fayt wondered how he should phrase that he had decided to blow off Cliff and go with "the psycho" instead. Well, certainly more eloquently than that crude summarization as Cliff would see it.

But as they started on the steps, Cliff was the first to speak. "Did you decide what you want to do?"

He made it sound so simple. Fayt cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually, I have."

Cliff looked down at Fayt, who was watching the steps in front of him. He sighed through his nose. "Then at least promise to keep in touch every now and then, okay?"

Fayt glanced up, mouth open. "I didn't even say anything."

Cliff slapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're one of those people that barely needs to use his mouth, Fayt."

The blue-haired boy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry about it."

Fayt stopped and waited for Cliff to notice that his were the only footsteps echoing against the walls. The blonde stopped two steps up and turned.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you yesterday. It was rude of me when you were injured, but I was just in shock over what happened." Fayt waited for a reaction.

Cliff smirked in amusement. "What the hell are you talking about, Fayt?"

"Yesterday, I should have shown more concern for your condition, but—"

Cliff's laughter broke Fayt off. "Geez. Didn't I say I was practically invincible? Besides, it was all a stupid misunderstanding. No harm done."

"But…"

"Hey, don't sulk too much. It ruins your face." Cliff said and grinned. "Let's go."

Fayt followed after, wondering whether he should resuscitate the issue or just leave it for dead. He couldn't bury the feeling that something wasn't yet resolved.

* * *

That afternoon, he visited Sophia's room as promised. She was in a better mood after her nap, and Fayt was able to tell her about the feelings he had about keeping Albel company after Luther's fall as they sat on Sophia's bed. He carefully omitted certain facts, however, because he was certain there was no way she would accept them. Besides, she really didn't need to know them. They were just good friends, he said, even if Albel wouldn't admit to it. She said she understood, but Fayt wasn't entirely convinced that was the truth. He did promise that he would get Cliff and Maria to give them each a communicator so that they could keep in contact. This seemed to brighten her outlook somewhat.

"So then you'll be leaving tomorrow, right?" she asked sadly.

"Yeah."

"I wish I could go with you."

"But you've got a lot ahead of you, Sophia. I know you'll do well in school and become successful."

"Well, to be honest I was thinking of changing my major."

"That's probably a good idea. But you're smart enough to pull through anything. You've always been an A student anyway."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

She smiled and looped her arm through his. "So do you think we can visit each other sometimes too?"

"That might be a stretch for Maria, but I'm sure sometime she'd lend us something."

"Well, until then I want you to call me everyday, got it?"

"Okay okay. You sound just like my mom."

"Aunt Ryoko's really going to miss you, Fayt."

"I know."

"…I'm going to miss you too."

"I know."

The two fell quiet and simply looked at one another. Fayt was about to stand and tell her that he should get going but she suddenly leaned forward and caught his mouth with hers. Fayt's eyes widened in sheer surprise at the unexpected move. He was even more at a loss for action when she pivoted her body to straddle his lap and crossed her arms firmly behind his back.

"Would you make love to me, Fayt, just once before you go? I want my first time to be with you."

Fayt's heart hammered in his chest so hard it hurt. He hadn't had feelings like that for Sophia in years, back when he confused their good friendship as a possible crush during his early teens. But it didn't last, considering how elusive she would be whenever any opportunity would arise. He had finally accepted her as nothing more than a best friend then and it still held. He had never really picked up any different vibes from her end either.

Now, in this situation, he wasn't sure if he was terrified or just delusional. "W-what?"

"I trust you. And we've known each other for a long time. I've always wanted you to be my first because I know you would never hurt me and it would be special. And I love you, Fayt." She kissed his mouth again.

Fayt was sure he hadn't blinked the entire time because his eyes were getting sore. Was there any feasible way he could deny her this and still retain their friendship? If there was, it wasn't coming to mind. She undoubtedly believed him to be just as innocent as she was. He didn't want to entertain images on how she would react if he told her that he had lost his virginity to a man. Very recently, in fact just two nights ago, with someone from another planet.

He gripped her upper arms and pushed her away. "Sophia, we shouldn't do this."

She looked hurt. "Why? Don't you love me too, Fayt?"

"Well, I do, but you're my best friend!"

"But what if we never see each other again? We might regret it forever."

Her expression was practically pleading. Fayt had no idea what to say without hurting her feelings. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to do this, he thought, maybe I should just do it, like a goodbye present. He suddenly thought of himself in Albel's room. Compared to the Elicoorian's point of view, this was nearly that exact same situation.

"Okay." Fayt concluded. "Just for tonight."

* * *

It was probably late when Fayt left Sophia snoring softly in bed, though it was always hard to tell when the stars were out twenty-four hours a day. He had fallen asleep naked by her side and had to fumble in the dark for his clothes once awake. As he dressed he thought about what he and Sophia had just done. He was surprised that it wasn't as bad as he feared it would be, in fact he had really enjoyed it. Though he highly doubted that he would ever be able to talk Albel into being the bottom if such an affair ever arose between them again.

He made his way upstairs to search out something more substantial than dried fruits to snack on. When he entered the small room that served as a kitchen on the ship, he was surprised to find Cliff already there raiding the cupboards.

"Hey. What time is it?" Fayt asked and peered at the shelves over the blonde's shoulder.

Cliff pulled out a wrinkled silver bag lacking a label and inspected the contents. "About nine I think. Why, what have you been up to?" He plopped down in a bar seat and cautiously tested the food inside.

"I've been asleep," Fayt answered and stood on his toes where Cliff was previously.

"Well now you won't be able to get to bed until late."

"Thanks for that tired piece of wisdom, Cliff."

"Hey, it's what I'm here for."

Fayt rolled his eyes and snorted in amusement. "Isn't there anything good to eat around here?"

"I have no idea what it is, but this stuff's pretty good." Cliff held out the mysterious bag like an offering.

Fayt closed the cupboard, approached the thing and carefully reached inside to pull out a handful. "It looks like beef jerky." Sinking his teeth into the substance, he concluded that it wasn't dried meat. Although it did have a slight teriyaki flavor. "You're right, it isn't bad. Maybe it's some sort of soy?"

Cliff pulled a face. "Don't even tell me I've been eating _that_ stuff."

Fayt laughed and sat on the opposite side of the bar so he could easily steal handfuls from Cliff's bag. It was hardly two minutes before the entire thing was empty.

Cliff wrinkled up the foil and chucked it across the room. "Things are so dull around here at night. I should've had a club built in or something." He yawned and rested his head in his palm, slumping his upper body in mock exasperation across the table.

"Why don't you read a book or something?"

Cliff looked at him blandly. "I want to get _rid_ of my boredom, Fayt."

"Back home when I had nothing to do and couldn't sleep I'd look at the stars."

The blonde hooked a corner of his lips skeptically. "I wonder if that could really be classified as something to do."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Well I'd have to be blind to say 'no' and mean it."

"I don't mean just looking _at _them, I mean looking _into _them."

Cliff rubbed at his eyes. "You're losing me."

Fayt sighed. "Nevermind."

After a moment of quiet, Cliff spoke again: "So you're sure you want to be dropped off on Elicoor? This is the last chance to change your mind. I mean, you'll have a communicator, but it's an underdeveloped planet all the same. Can you really live like that?"

"I think I might actually prefer it." Fayt grinned.

"A masochist, huh?"

"I've never really liked complicated things anyway. Besides, there's plenty of room to run around there."

Cliff shrugged. "I'll admit that Aquios was nice. I think I could stand to live there."

"So you could see Nell and the other Crimson Blade girls all the time?"

"Well yeah. And no cold baths either. Hot water and babes are definitely a plus when choosing a place to live."

"You'll never change, Cliff."

"What's the point of wasting a good thing?"

Fayt propped his face in his palm and studied Cliff for a while before straightening in his seat. He laced his fingers together on the countertop and looked down at them. "Thanks for everything, Cliff. We wouldn't have been able to do it without you. And I would have been a goner a long time ago if it weren't for you."

Cliff straightened as well. "What's with the sentimental stuff all of a sudden?"

Fayt shrugged. "I just thought you should know that I really appreciated it."

"Well you've saved my own butt on more than one occasion, too. Let's just leave it as 'good teamwork'."

Fayt smiled. "Alright."

The two sat in silence, listening to the ever-present hum of the ship's engines. After a moment the stillness was broken by bells over the loudspeaker, signaling an announcement. Marietta's voice followed, informing the ship's occupants that the Diplo would arrive at Elicoor II in twelve hours.

"Not much time left," Cliff said and stood up.

"Where are you off to?"

"To do the only thing I really can do. Break into my emergency stash of booze."

"Would you mind if I joined you? There's no way I'm getting to bed any time soon."

Cliff crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you too young to be drinking?"

Fayt stood up. "Hey, only by certain planets' standards. We're out in the middle of space. I don't think those rules apply out here."

Cliff clapped Fayt on the shoulder. "Sounds logical enough to me." He gestured with his arm and led the way back to the lower level of the ship.

When they got to Cliff's room, the blonde closed the door behind them and made his way straight to the bed. Sitting on the floor, he reached beneath and extracted a small cardboard box.

Fayt looked at it with mild surprise. "Cardboard? You must've splurged on Elicoor before we came back."

Cliff grinned and lifted out a square brown bottle scripted with blocky letters. "Damn right I did. Why pass up the opportunity to stock up while it's cheap? Here."

Fayt caught the bottle that was tossed to him and inspected the label. "Gin?"

Cliff took a similar bottle for himself and plopped down on the bed. "Yeah. Trust me, you'll love it." He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.

Fayt watched the blonde's face carefully. Seeing that he wasn't wincing, Fayt decided to dive in. He removed the cap and refused to sniff it before taking in a mouthful. His face clenched up in revulsion but he forced himself to swallow. "Ugh yuck! How can you like this stuff?" He coughed and wiped his mouth.

Cliff folded over in laughter. "Nobody drinks it for the taste. But keep at it. Soon you won't even notice it."

Fayt sat on the floor and hesitantly complied. "Hmm. I guess it's a little better."

Cliff began bantering about random things and for a while Fayt listened and answered when he needed to. But the alcohol swiftly infiltrated his blood, and it wasn't long before he was thinking about Sophia. He was having second thoughts whether what they did was the right thing or not.

"Fayt?"

The boy looked up and saw Cliff sitting on the bed, back against the wall, looking at him curiously. "You okay? You're not already drunk are you?"

Fayt shook his head. "No. Well maybe."

The blonde grinned. "I figured you were a lightweight."

"No, I'm fine, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Fayt couldn't help but blush at the memory. He took another pull from the bottle in the hopes that his companion might think of his glowing cheeks as a result from the alcohol.

He didn't really want to tell Cliff about it. "Just everything that's happened in the past week. I still can't believe what we went through."

"Oh? But hey, we got through it, right? That's gotta say something about our characters."

The boy nodded. From somewhere in his mind came the question of whether Albel would care about what he did. Of course not, he thought, it wouldn't be like him to be jealous over something like that. Albel would think it a trivial matter at best if he even cared at all. Fayt pictured the Elicoorian laughing at him before clapping him on the shoulder. But then as soon as he turned around a sword split him in two. He shuddered.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little green." Cliff moved from his lax position to join his friend on the floor.

"Yeah yeah. I'm fine." Fayt rubbed at his eyelids and forced his imagination into the shadows.

"Maybe you should lie down." The Klausian lifted the bottle from Fayt's yielding hand and set it aside.

"I think I'll be okay. I just need to shut my eyes for a minute." He did so and felt the floor shift beneath him.

"Um, maybe you shouldn't do that."

The room started to spin slowly and Fayt reopened his eyes. "Is the ship turning around?"

"That's just a lousy side effect of being drunk. Just focus on something in front of you and it'll stop."

Fayt did as he was told and waited for his vision to clear while Cliff rubbed the back of his head and neck. "I don't think I like drinking after all."

"You just need to find your limit. But you've got a head start now at least, right?"

"Cliff, what are you going to do once everyone's gone? Are you going back to the dojo to train?"

The Klausian watched fine blue hairs slid through his fingers as he answered. "No, I don't think so. Mirage is going back, though. I just can't right now."

"Will you stay with Quark?"

"Yeah, most likely. I'm curious to see what the Federation plans to do now."

Fayt rested his weight against his friend and breathed in deep. "That's actually helping."

Cliff continued to lightly massage the boy's scalp and neck for a few minutes before resting his chin on Fayt's head to breath in the scent of his hair. He closed his eyes and allowed his own mind to swim. "You smell nice," he said quietly without meaning to.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself."

"Mmm." Fayt decided to test to see whether it was safe to finally let his eyes rest. To his relief the room was no longer spinning and he allowed himself to doze.

When Cliff heard light snoring from below, he opened his eyes and moved his head to look at Fayt. The boy was already asleep.

"Figures," he said and carefully moved to get his arms beneath Fayt's back and knees. He stood slowly to keep from awakening his burden and made his way for the door.

The hall outside was quiet; everyone was either in their rooms or up on the bridge. Cliff made it to Fayt's room and gently laid the sleeper on the bed. Fayt had barely stirred.

Cliff stood over the Earth-born boy for a while before sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. He smoothed an azure hair from closed eyes.

"I hate to say this kid, but we might never see each other again. It's not gonna be the same without you around. I wish you would've chosen to stick around for a while, but there's nothing I can do about that anymore." He paused and lowered his hand to barely touch lightly breathing lips. "Anyway, it was nice getting to know you, Fayt."

Cliff leaned down and moved his thumb to make way for his lips. He kissed the boy softly, knowing it was his last chance, though he still couldn't bring himself to truly enjoy it without feeling slightly guilty. Though he was taking advantage of Fayt's unconscious state, he was respectful and decent enough to make it as innocent as possible. After several seconds he began to pull away, but Fayt's arm suddenly lopped down across his back and pushed him back down. His mouth was suddenly attacked by the one beneath him and Cliff couldn't bring himself to pull away. Fayt transcended from lackluster to aggressive in a matter of seconds. They wrestled tongues hotly for some time, and Cliff felt his lower body protesting the lack of room in his tight pants. But when Fayt began to moan and arch his body into Cliff's, the man knew there would be no stopping this if he didn't just do it now. He couldn't use Fayt like that, not when the kid wasn't even aware of what he was doing.

It was with great strength and regret that he broke their fervent kiss and pushed himself away. Fayt's eyes were only half open, but he whispered for the other not to go.

Cliff inhaled deep to regain some oxygen. "You're drunk, Fayt. Go to sleep."

When Fayt's eyes slipped back closed, Cliff stole quietly from the room to make his way back to his own. "Damn teenagers," he muttered.

Once in his own room, Cliff flopped down on the bed and crossed his hands behind his head on the pillow. The blood was still coursing with hot violence through his veins and he bit his lip to distract himself. But the minute his eyes were closed, he felt Fayt's lips on his, the boy's body pushing in complete willingness against him. He heard Fayt's plea for him to stay.

"Dammit!" Cliff swung out a fist that connected with the wall. He should have known better than to give the kid alcohol. But then again it didn't help that he was also partially intoxicated. He was supposed to be the adult here. Besides, Fayt was half his age. The kid could have been his little brother, or even his son.

But no matter how he tried to justify his guilt, the tang of the boy's lips, the imprints of his roaming hands wouldn't disappear. Cliff exhaled long and gave up. He yanked open his pants and the minute he touched himself those justifications dissolved.

* * *

When the loudspeaker in Fayt's room announced their arrival at Elicoor II, he was already awake, mostly. He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his pounding temples in a vain attempt to ease the pain bouncing through his skull. When the speaker erupted it was enough to make him jump and hold his head in agony.

Great. They were already there and he had a hangover. He would have to do something about it or else his goodbyes would be a poor sight. Fayt rose from the bed and changed clothes before quickly throwing together all of his things in a beaten up knapsack from the closet.

Luckily no one was at the transporter just yet so he was able to slip into the sick bay without any attention.

The nurse on duty looked up and smiled at him. "You'll be getting off soon won't you?"

Fayt nodded. "Yes, but I was wondering if I could get some pain medicine first."

The nurse agreed and handed him a pill with no questions asked. Fayt wanted to kiss her for that particular courtesy but stuck to swallowing down the pill and thanking her before he left. His head was already leveling out by the time Albel joined him at the door leading to the transport unit.

"You're strangely punctual," the swordsman accused as he approached. "Can't wait to get off this piece of junk, too?"

"Very funny."

"It's not too late to change your mind, you know. You don't have to live with us barbarians if you don't want to." Albel rested his claw on the handle of his katana and waited for Fayt's reply.

"I already told you that I was going. I'm not changing my mind." Fayt crossed his arms as if to accentuate his point.

"Hn. We'll see how steeled your resolve is after a few weeks sleeping in fields with only freezing rivers to bathe in and monsters constantly stalking your back."

"Are you trying to scare me into staying?"

"Not at all. I'm just dying to test out my babysitting skills."

Fayt glared at him. "I can take care of myself without technology just fine. I've already done it twice."

Albel smirked. "We'll see."

Sophia was the first to see them off. The minute she arrived and looked at Fayt her cheeks colored. "I guess this is it," she said and fidgeted the toes of her shoes.

Fayt reached out and smothered her in a hug, which she enthusiastically returned. Albel snorted in irritation and turned away from the spectacle. But when Sophia released Fayt she addressed both of them.

"You had better look out for each other. Fayt, you'll contact me as much as you can, right?"

He nodded. "Cliff should have some devices for us once he gets here."

"Don't you dare forget."

"Alright alright. I promise."

Albel rolled his eyes. "Yes, we'll be delighted to receive something that will transport nagging through time and space."

Sophia glared at him but didn't retort. Maria, Cliff, Peppita, Mirage, and several other members of the Diplo crew were already approaching them from the bridge.

Fayt exchanged hugs and handshakes with everyone. When it was Cliff's turn, he handed Fayt a communicator.

"If you ever need anything, just give us a buzz."

"Thanks, Cliff," Fayt said and opened his arms for an embrace.

Cliff hesitated for a moment but accepted, clapping Fayt hard on the shoulder twice before releasing him. "We'll keep in touch anyway."

"Right."

The blonde shot a quick dagger in Albel's direction before joining the others to send the two off.

"So long, Fayt! Take care, Albel!" Peppita cried and waved enthusiastically as the two boarded the transporter.

Fayt waved at them all while Albel stood rigidly. Most of the girls had tears in their eyes except for Maria and Mirage. He was sad to be leaving them, though it didn't truly hit him until that moment. But he didn't have time to shed a tear before swirling blue light enveloped him. When it dissipated into the ether, blinding sunlight took over. It felt as though he hadn't seen it in ages.

The terrain looked just as it did before he had left from atop the Kirlsa Training Facility. The dull hills of the Granah rose from the ground behind the former stronghold's walls surrounding the open-air arena.

"Ah, something familiar for once." Albel strode toward the wall where two headless sentries stood like the very icons of death. He leaped to the upper lever that stretched out along the wall and walked to the edge. "Come here!" he shouted to Fayt.

The latter followed, but had a more difficult time getting up the wall. When he finally made it, he was taken aback by the view of the sea. The sun was high, and the waves glittered far below like molten silver. Fresh salty air blew around him and he breathed the scent in deep. It almost seemed out of place to have been the witness of such a spectacular scene from such a grim place. But Fayt was content to forget that as he stood next to Albel and watched the rolling tides.

"I used to come here nearly every day when I was young. Other than now, the last time I have been to this spot in nearly ten years was that day you came back. I don't know why, but I wanted to watch the sea that day. Lucky for you." Albel sneered on that last thought.

"I was wondering where you disappeared to. You didn't even say goodbye."

Albel shrugged. "Those things matter not to me."

"Well, they do to me."

"Clearly."

The two stood in silence and gazed out over the vastness of the water while cool breezes stirred the air. Everything that surrounded him pulled Fayt in, and he was content to let go of his worries and regrets for a while. Though he couldn't begin to know what the future had in store for them, he was confident that the possibilities were just as wide and open as that sea.

* * *

To be continued…

A/N: Well I recently got back from Kunicon in Denver and it was a blast! Except for the 1000 mile drive each way. Hence the delay in updates (I'd been sewing and doing craftiwork like it was a chore). If you didn't see the note in my so-called bio page, I went as Albel and my boyfriend went as Romero (since I took the time to make his costume after a painstaking search for a reference picture, it must mean I like him….hint hint for future chapters). And that was the first anime con I've been to since I'm borderline poverty status. Needless to say I'll be scrimping on grocery money and going to future cons (probably as a waif)! The costumes were awesome and so was Denver! I seriously need to move.

But now I've got time again and this story shall ensue! No, I didn't plan that situation with Fayt and Sophia, it just happened. I'm still shocked he did it to be honest. It seems that everyone wants Fayt now (not that he seems to mind). Chaos! Oh yes, and I know it's against the rules, at least in my book, but I revised chapter two a bit. You'll barely notice. Anyway, thanks for your great (and at times wonderfully generous) feedback! Anata-tachi ga daisuki da yo!


	6. A Dark Journey

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Six

* * *

"Hey, Albel! Isn't Kirlsa this way?" Fayt yelled after his companion's back.

Albel had veered off the path toward the base of the mountains without a word of warning. He didn't turn at Fayt's question but instead strode forward with determination, his good hand extracting his katana as he moved.

Fayt stood still and watched in confusion, but when sunlight caught the glint of steel his reflexes jerked him into motion. He wasn't sure whether or not he would have to fight, but if Albel were in danger he couldn't stand idly by. As soon as he broke into a run, he saw what it was that the swordsman was after. A beast, already low on its haunches and snarling at the man, stood directly in Albel's path. It was clear that the creature would have been of no threat to them if they'd stayed on the road.

Fayt watched as the Glyphian swung his blade effortlessly through the air before it fell into tough skin, cleanly lopping off the monster's head. The boy stopped in surprise when the bloody thing landed pate-down at his feet. Tearing his eyes from the mess of the dead creature's severed neck, he again sought Albel, who was flinging the blood from his sword as he returned to Fayt's side.

Seeing the boy's marked perplexity, Albel narrowed his eyes as he brushed past the other. "Don't tell me being cooped up on that ship hasn't made you desperate to kill something."

"As a matter of fact, it hadn't crossed my mind." Fayt wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

"Bah. You're only suppressing it. Come on. There's another one over there." Albel moved toward the unknowing beast several yards away without waiting.

Whirling around, Fayt glared at the man's back. There was no reason to go around butchering animals that posed no danger to them. Albel was just being reckless. Fayt hoped that his time here wouldn't always be like this. A nice long break from fighting sounded like a novel idea, but traveling with someone like Albel Nox would probably complicate that particular desire. Fayt sighed and trailed after.

There had been a path of corpses in their wake once the two finally reached Kirlsa. Fayt was tired after the long walk, especially after having been used to relaxing in the Diplo's small environment, but Albel only appeared more enthusiastic after his long string of kills. The open space certainly agreed with him, but then again Albel never seemed quite himself when walls surrounded him.

The sun began its descent as the pair entered the town gates. The air was warm between the buildings, sliced by an occasional breath of cold mountain wind. Fayt breathed in deep, enjoying the freshness of natural, unfiltered air as he watched a two-tailed tabby cat race after an unfortunate rodent.

It was clear that the guards at Woltar's manor were rather surprised to see the young captain of the Black Brigade approaching the gates. The two men surveyed Albel's bloodstained clothes with wide eyes before shooting a questioning glance at each other. Fortunately, one of them had the wise impulse to speak before the swordsman could lose his temper over their artless welcome.

"Lord Albel! It is good to see that you are returned."

The other man found the nerve to join in. "How did you fare on your journeys?"

"Is the old coot here or not?" Albel barked.

The guards visibly flinched. The first spoke again. "Yes, milord. Please go ahead."

Once the sentries had pushed the gates back and the pair crossed the threshold, Fayt nodded politely at them. "Do you have to be so rude?" he said once the men were out of earshot. "They were just trying to welcome you back."

"I couldn't care less what those worms were trying to do. They are louts whose only concern is their wages." Albel didn't even bother knocking on the front door as they came to a stop. He seized the handle and threw it open, letting himself in before Fayt followed.

The boy looked around. Though he had been in the manor before, he still found the luxury of its setting a rich distraction to his senses. He allowed his eyes to wander over everything from the doorway as Albel made his way up the stairs.

After a few moments he heard raised voices, though he couldn't understand what they were saying. Once they had abruptly stopped, footsteps thudded across the floor overhead followed by a slamming door. Then it was quiet and Fayt felt uneasy. Leave it to Albel to get into an argument as soon as he set foot back home.

When he heard footsteps descending toward him, Fayt looked up to see Woltar in his customary dark robes. The man moved slowly and carefully, and his expression was etched deeply with fatigue, as if he hadn't slept for days. Albel wasn't with him. Seeing Fayt, Woltar paused with his hand on the polished railing and smiled.

"Ah, Master Fayt. It is good to see you again."

Fayt bowed his head. "It's nice to see you too, sir."

"Please forgive Albel's rudeness. He clearly hasn't gained much patience from his sojourns abroad." Woltar sighed before brightening. "But I am told that you will be staying with us for a while. You are quite welcome in this household for as long as you like." He continued to cross the remainder of the steps.

Fayt moved to offer him an arm for support but Woltar raised a hand politely to decline. "Thank you, but I still have enough vitality to get around on my own, even if it is at a bothersome pace. I will just inform the cook to prepare supper for three. Until then, please make yourself at home. There is a guest room available for you upstairs next to Albel's, second from the right. Forgive me for not showing you personally, but I'm afraid I have something to attend to at the moment. In any case, I look forward to hearing all about your travels at dinner."

"Thank you." Fayt returned the old man's smile

Once Woltar had gone, Fayt wondered what he should do. With a glance at the carpeted stairs, he hefted his pack more comfortably on his back and decided to take advantage of the old man's graciousness.

The thick crimson runner on the second floor felt good beneath his tired feet, and Fayt paused near the top of the stairs to look around at the paintings adorning the walls. The old count certainly had refined tastes. It was like being inside one of those old aristocratic houses sometimes described in his British history books. It felt both strange and a little relieving to be in a place so unlike home.

Fayt counted the doors. The furthest on his right was probably Albel's, so he approached its neighbor and twisted the knob. The space beyond was dim and musty, like it hadn't been occupied in years, maybe even decades. There probably hadn't been a fresh gust of air through the room in all that time. The curtains were drawn shut but for a crack, where a shaft of light enough to illuminate his way came through. He toed across the lush carpeting toward the window and threw the heavy fabric aside. Tangerine sunlight spilled into the room and he could tell, despite the stale air, that someone had been maintaining the place. Only a few dust motes revolted against the bright sunbeam, and the covers of the bed were both clean and turned down, as if the housekeeper had known all along that a guest would be arriving.

Fayt took a moment to get used to the layout of the room before setting his pack down at the foot of the bed. The thick coverlet that lay across the top of it practically beckoned him, and he flopped down onto it, marveling at the luxury of a real down blanket. It even smelled antiqued, but he liked that. Something about it was more comforting than the empty, odorless qualities of the blankets stuffed with acrylic that he was used to. There was more…personality here. That was the only way he could think to describe it. Everything here seemed to carry a trace of the past, of the people who touched these things.

Even while he relaxed, Fayt noticed how strangely quiet it was. No sounds came from next door and he wondered if maybe Albel hadn't escaped out the window. The man didn't seem like the type to sit and sulk quietly when he was angry, but more apt to break things and curse. Maybe whatever Woltar had said wasn't that bad after all.

Fayt suddenly caught a glimpse of something shining reflecting the sunlight on top of the chest of drawers. It was a small painting behind framed glass. Curious, he lifted himself up from the bed and moved closer. It was a man and a woman holding a baby, and they were smiling. Fayt could tell they were genuine smiles, not like those that he sometimes wore for photographs he didn't really want to be in. The artist of this piece did an amazing job in capturing that essence. As he leaned in closer, he immediately recognized the man in the portrait. Albel, or rather, Albel's spitting image of a father, only older and with shorter hair. And the smile was different of course; he didn't think Albel could ever smile like that if he tried. The woman he didn't find familiar, but he was sure it was safe to assume that she was Albel's mother. He smiled with a twinge of guilt. Somehow it felt wrong that he was looking into a piece of Albel's past without the other's knowledge. But maybe he was just being paranoid.

Deciding he needed some fresh air, Fayt moved to the window and pushed out the glass, immediately admiring the view of the forest trees as their tops swayed with the mountain wind. Fayt thought about the last time he was in Kirlsa; it was hardly time ago to speak of, and yet so many things had changed since then. At least now he was where he wanted to be by his own design, his own choice. That was enough for him.

He hadn't realized how long he was standing there until a knock sounded at his door. One of Woltar's servants was waiting to announce that supper was served. Fayt followed, descending to the main floor-dining hall where Woltar was already seated at the table. The old man's fingers were steepled in front of his closed eyes but he roused at Fayt's arrival and flashed his white teeth in a smile.

"Please take a seat, Master Fayt."

The boy sat at the master of the manor's left, stifling the urge to ask where Albel was; he had noticed the latter's absence as soon as he arrived.

But Woltar answered that unspoken question anyway. "Albel is probably still brooding in his room, just like when he was a child."

Fayt adjusted in his seat. "Erm, if you don't mind my asking, sir, what is he so upset about?"

"No, I don't mind at all. You see, just a few days before you two came here, I received a message from Airyglyph summoning the captain of the Black Brigade. Its nature was urgent so I informed Albel right away. Naturally, he revolted."

"Why would he do that?"

Woltar shrugged. "He just does not want to do any work as soon as he gets back, I imagine. Although his true motives have always been based on an indignation at having to serve the king."

Fayt nodded. He could believe that, given what he had seen of Albel's rebellious temperament. Just as he raised his water glass to his lips, the subject of their brief discourse came into the room. Albel practically spilled into the seat across from Fayt he was so ungraceful. He propped his elbows on the table and glared at Woltar, who ignored him in favor of the meal.

"I hope you like game hen, Master Fayt," Woltar said and unfolded his napkin.

Fayt blinked against the static electricity that had suddenly built up over the vicinity of the table. "Oh, yes, it's fine."

"The grouse in this area are renowned."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

Albel suddenly slammed his arms flat against the table, shaking the glasses. "Enough mindless pleasantries already, old man. Do you plan on telling me the real reason why I have to set foot in that infernal dungeon again or is that also 'unspecified'?"

Fayt waited silently, too taken aback by this outburst to move. But Woltar was unfazed. He merely gave Albel patient look, which only served to make the young Glyphian angrier.

"My boy, I've already related to you all that I know of the situation. What more can I tell you?"

Albel sneered. "I'm no fool. There is more to it than that."

"If there is, then I know it not."

"Then perhaps I will refuse." There was certain triumph in his voice.

Woltar finally broke down and gave his best friend's son a stern look. "Do you really wish to be tried for treason again, Albel? That dungeon on the wrong side of the bars is no place for boys like you."

Albel's eyes spilled fire. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Woltar smiled very slightly. "It means just what you believe it does. Boys of your temperament and, well, unusually slight build, are not suited to handle such punishments for a length of time."

Albel spoke through his teeth. "In case you've forgotten, I have already tasted them."

The old man nodded and shrugged. "Yes, indeed you have. But were you not pardoned so soon, I highly doubt you would have been capable of withstanding those chains. It would have broken you."

Fayt held his breath and waited for the blood to flow. To his surprise, Albel rose without much of a fuss. But the fire scorching through the Glyphian's eyes had frozen over into something all the more deadly for its eerie calm. That glare was fixed brutally on Woltar.

"You're wrong, old man. There's _nothing_ I can't handle." With that, Albel stomped through the room and out the front door.

After a tense silence, Woltar cleared his throat. He looked at Fayt and smiled with a bit of embarrassment. "Well, that solves that little problem."

Now that he had witnessed it, Fayt found it almost shocking how Woltar mentally manipulated Albel. Not that there was anything truly malicious in his words or intentions; they were crafted deliberately to rile and push the swordsman. Fayt wondered how much of a role Woltar had in shaping Albel's immense strength of both body and character in this fashion. Albel clearly didn't see it. After that day in the baths at Aquaria, Fayt had seen to what extent the Glyphian took Woltar's words to heart. It was probably a habit from childhood built on fear of a parental figure, but Albel was genuinely upset that time, more so than he had ever seen the man. He wondered if Woltar had ever once spoken a word of love or compassion to his surrogate son. Fayt thought back to the portrait in his room, how happy and caring those people looked. How different would Albel have turned out if his father hadn't died protecting him?

They continued their meal in Albel's absence, Woltar prompting Fayt to relate in some detail the story of his traveling. Even though Woltar's countenance gave no indication of his doubt, Fayt could tell that the old man had a difficult time digesting much of what was said. Though he couldn't blame him; surely if their roles had been reversed, with Fayt knowing little to nothing about the universe other than his own world, he would probably understand very little of what was coming from his mouth. But Woltar was a wise man, and seemed interested in knowing all the same.

Once supper was ended and the two moved to stand, Woltar, who had not spoken much over the course of the evening, asked what was doubtlessly in the back of his mind the entire time. "Master Fayt, if I may be so bold as to request a favor of you?"

"I don't mind."

"I was hoping you might consider accompanying Albel to Airyglyph for his assignment, as I believe your assistance would be of great value to him. However, I must warn you beforehand that the situation sounds rather dangerous, so you needn't feel obligated to assent."

"If you don't mind me asking, what sort of assignment is this?"

Woltar nodded. "Of course. Recently it has been discovered that there is a secret catacomb of old dungeons beneath the castle that even the king himself knew nothing about. After being sent in to search the area, several troops have disappeared, some of Albel's infantry being among them. And as you know, the captain of the Dragon Brigade is no more, so it is Albel's duty as a commander to take over the investigation."

"That is strange." Fayt couldn't conceive of how such an old castle would have no records of an existing portion of itself, obscure or not. He could understand Albel's wariness; there was something fishy about the whole thing.

"Indeed. That is why I am hoping you will aid in the search. Of course it is entirely up to you, but if you decide to help you will certainly be granted nomination into the knighthood of Airyglyph. However, with your pragmatic combat skills and talents in runology, I have no doubts that your induction is all but guaranteed."

Fayt couldn't help but smile at the flattery. Him? A knight? It sounded like something out of one of his boyhood fantasies. He could see no reason to pass it up. Besides, he didn't want to let Albel undertake such a shady mission alone.

"I would like to tell you that you have plenty of time to think about it, but unfortunately I cannot," Woltar continued.

"That's alright. I've already made my decision."

* * *

Once Woltar had retired for the evening, after informing the guards that Fayt had free and unquestioned passage in and out of the manor, the boy decided to look for Albel. It was already dusk; the stars shone in accompaniment with an amber moon. He hit the weapon shop first with no luck. Next he tried the grocer and the dry goods store, but Albel was not to be found. He thought about the mines. Certainly Albel wouldn't find anything amusing there. Maybe he had gone out to slay some more monsters. Fayt never thought he would feel sorry for man-eating beasts while he was still sane, but Albel's ferocity and ruthlessness on the field had changed that. He approached the guard at the gate to the road that led to the training facility and asked if the man had seen a tall skinny guy wearing a purple skirt pass through. The guard smothered a laugh.

"If you mean Lord Albel, then yes, he passed through a while ago. Everyone here knows who he is, so if you ever want to find him, just ask by name. Forgive me, but I'd hate to think of how he would react if he caught wind of how you describe him."

Fayt thanked the guard for the "precaution" and exited the town. He hoped he wouldn't have to walk all the way to the training center, and was subsequently rewarded. A figure caught his attention down by the seashore not long after his departure, and he moved in that direction. Albel was sitting on the beach with his katana plunged into the soft dirt beside him. To Fayt's surprise and though it was dark, he could see no blood glinting on it, nor were there any corpses in the area.

At the sound of footsteps, Albel jerked around and tensed in case he would have to seize his sword and destroy whatever is was that approached him. But seeing that it was only Fayt he frowned with disappointment and propped himself back on his elbows, letting the water nearly touch his outstretched legs.

Fayt stood next to the man and looked out over the dark sea. "It's so pretty."

"I didn't know you were a poet," Albel mocked.

"Woltar asked me to go to the castle with you."

Albel did not reply, but threw a pebble into the waves.

"I agreed."

The swordsman grunted. "Ah, what a noble undertaking on your part."

"Look, I know it's because you were locked up there that you don't want to return, but your men need you."

"You certainly have the annoying habit of claiming to know many things."

Fayt sighed and sat down next to his companion. "I'm just saying that it's the right thing to do."

"And I'm just saying that your mouth is relentless."

Fayt pitched a rock into the sea. He didn't know why he even bothered trying to talk to Albel sometimes; it seemed impossible to break through that stubborn exterior. But then again, he had to give some respect to the Glyphian. He had never met anyone with such a strong will and sense of self, even if it was infuriating.

For a long while the two just sat on the shore and watched the moon as it slowly shifted from amber to white as it ascended and appeared to grow smaller.

"I remember that night the stars disappeared, how black it was," Fayt said. "I think that was when I realized how much I took them for granted." He looked out at the stars' reflection on the calmed water. "Even though I've seen them up close all the time from ships, I still think they look nicer from far away."

"Hn."

"When I was little I used to dream of going out into space and walking on the moon, or seeing other galaxies. Then when we took our first vacation to a resort planet far away I had my chance to see everything up close. I still remember how amazing that was. But even while I was out there among the stars I missed being home. I think it was the feeling of ground under my feet that I wanted back then. Weird, huh?"

"No."

"Why's that?"

"It's because you detest being caged in. You don't want to see the world through a plane of glass."

Fayt looked at Albel's faintly illuminated face and opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the words. What Albel had said was so simple, but there was profound truth in it. He had never thought of it that way before. Albel was able to realize this feature in Fayt because he too hated the thought of being caged in. But Fayt believed that with Albel it was different. He didn't just hate the idea, it terrified him. The Glyphian would never in a million years admit to something like this, but Fayt already knew—though he had only just realized it.

"It's late." Albel stood and sheathed his sword before beginning back toward town.

Standing, Fayt brushed the dirt off his pants and moved to follow. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He wanted to reassure Albel that whatever awaited them in that castle dungeon would not entrap him. That Albel's death would not come in a cage. Fayt would make sure of that.

* * *

With a few provisions, a heavy coat, and boots for each of them, Fayt and Albel put the final touches on their preparation for their trip through the Traum Mountains. Initially Albel protested having to wear the cumbersome boots because they would hinder his speed in combat, or so he claimed. But Woltar reminded him of the thick snow that awaited them.

"If you'll recall, the last time you tried to make it there as you were, you ended up with frostbite. Now drop the stubborn façade and put them on." Woltar had barely flinched when the boots were ripped impatiently from his hands. He turned to Fayt. "All set?"

The boy nodded and thanked the old man.

"Then I wish you luck, and please be careful. I will look forward to your inherent return." With that, Woltar sent them off.

The air was already cold just outside the town gates and the tall mountains were barely even visible apart from the bleakness of the sky. Only a few scraggly trees or patches of dirt marked their presence in the near distance.

"Ah what perfect timing. It looks like we're in for a snowstorm," Albel growled.

Fayt squinted his eyes to study the sky. It all looked like one big gray haze. "Are we going to be okay?"

Albel sighed. "It will be about a two-day journey, maybe longer depending on the extremity of the conditions."

The blue-haired boy swallowed. Surprisingly, even with the several trips he had taken through these same mountains, he had never seen more than a few scattered flakes fall at one time from the sky. It didn't bode well for the apprehension already stirring in his stomach.

The leather boots and fur-lined coats, though burdensome, were suddenly a blessing in the swirl of tiny freezing daggers that screamed down from the void of a winter sky. Though Fayt soon concluded that if there was one good thing about having to travel in such weather, it was not having to deal with attacks. He didn't see another single living organism the entire time they walked. Even the starving beasts that dwelled in cold mountains had more sense than to be out in such a miasma.

They had walked as far as they could before night began to fall. Albel, who had been in the lead, stopped and gestured with his hand at something to the right. Fayt looked to where he had pointed and saw a wall of rock with something dark chiseled into it. A cave. He followed Albel until they reached the gap and kicked the snow off the bottoms of his boots against the cliff wall.

It was really more like a fissure than a cave; there wasn't much room and it seemed to cleave quite a ways into the mountain but became more and more narrow the further it went. While Fayt triggered their lightstone, Albel settled down against the wall. There was just enough room for him to stretch his legs and only have his knees slightly bent when his feet hit the opposite wall. It was not comfortable. He crossed his arms, pulled his shoulders up close to his ears, and lowered his face without a word. Though the wind could still be heard howling outside, the cave was quite still.

Once Fayt was satisfied in his brief exploration, he turned and found Albel sitting still. Deciding that he too was tired, the boy turned off the lightstone as he moved and sat next to him. He could practically sense Albel's desire to scooch away, if only there had been more room to do so. Besides, there was nothing there with which to sustain a fire. Fayt could muster a spell for a while, but his energy was nearly sapped from the cold and from the exertion of the climb. After that, they were going to have to keep each other warm if they wanted to use their muscles again tomorrow morning.

Fayt mumbled a few words under his breath and concentrated as he formed a ball of crimson fire. It hovered over his gloved palm, emitting warmth enough not to burn his skin.

Albel looked up and watched the thing burn and slightly bob above Fayt's hand. It was almost hypnotic, yet it hurt his eyes all the more for having nothing but white to stare at all day long. But it was still the next best thing to a real fire. After about ten minutes the ball started to shrink and its brightness dulled before it completely disappeared, leaving the two back to freezing darkness and the sound of the wind outside.

"Sorry," Fayt muttered. "I can't…"

"I know. Go to sleep."

Fayt snuggled deeper into his coat but was already shivering. He doubted whether he would be able to follow Albel's advice. He was a little more than stunned when his companion moved closer, pressing his body up against Fayt's side. He didn't say anything, but closed his eyes and concentrated on the faint warmth seeping through to his skin. Before long his mind slipped into a troubled sleep.

* * *

The next morning Fayt awoke to Albel's head resting heavily on his shoulder. He blinked groggily, slowly remembering where they were and why. He turned his head and looked outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the clouds were still thick and gloomy in the sky, hiding the sun. There might be another storm today. They had to get moving soon if they had any hope of beating it.

He was about to shake his arm to rouse Albel, but paused to look at the sleeper's face. The large hood he wore obscured the majority of Albel's face, and from his angle Fayt could only see the end of his nose, his lips and chin. Albel was breathing steadily, the usual scowl on his lips dissolved into a calm line. There was something entrancing about it, and Fayt was faced with a cliché opportunity to steal a kiss from the unsuspecting man.

But he knew that should he try and have Albel wake up, he would probably sport a bloody lip into Airyglyph. He decided to carry on with his initial plan.

Albel jerked awake at the movement and cast a drowsy glare in the boy's direction. Either he was upset at being awakened or else he was indignant at the fact that he had fallen asleep using Fayt as a pillow. He then studied the day outside and moved to stand.

"Wait," Fayt said. "Don't you want to eat something first?"

"If you want to see a fire before dark, we need to get moving now." Albel exited the cave.

Fayt resigned and followed behind; he would have to suffer through another day, but if it meant sleeping in a room with a real bed instead of one made from rocks and dirt, he wasn't about to complain.

When the sky eventually deepened into a threatening shade of granite gray and still there was no sight of the castle, Fayt began to worry. His stomach growled in revolt of his neglect, and his body ached miserably. How in the world did Albel even know which way they were going? They could have easily been turned around in that storm.

He stopped. "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

Albel halted as well, turning around. "It's not far off, so don't you dare start complaining." He pointed at the slope ahead. "Just over this rise."

Fayt scrunched his face in doubt. He was sure they wouldn't survive if they tried to continue on in the freezing night. But he had no choice but to trust his guide's word.

It was dark when they spotted the first light of a torch in the distance. Fayt couldn't remember the last time he felt so completely grateful for something so simple. The bridge leading to the castle was buried under virgin snow. They tromped through it, and Fayt wondered how often people braved the elements to visit a castle out in the middle of nowhere in the coldest region of the planet. Of course there were the merchants. And then there were the soldiers and those people who were completely out of their minds. He wondered which category he belonged to.

Nobody was out in the town streets, but torches still lighted the doorways of a few scattered homes and shops. Fayt was surprised to see Albel veer toward the inn.

"We're not going to the castle now?" he asked. He was sure Albel had claim to a personal room somewhere in the place.

"They can wait until tomorrow."

When they entered the lodge and the heat of a fire penetrated his cold-reddened face, Fayt's gloomy mood melted with the snow on his clothes.

Albel threw off his hood and shook his bangs from his eyes before turning his attention to the clerk. "I want two rooms."

The man obviously recognized Albel, Fayt could tell, because he looked terrified.

"Y-yes, sir." The man bent and rummaged under the counter. When he straightened he held up two keys.

Albel swiped them up and tossed one to Fayt. "Be up at sunrise." With that, he tromped up the rickety wooden steps.

Fayt offered an apology for his companion's behavior to the surprised clerk and made his own way up the stairs. Once he had a fire going in his room he peeled off both the heavy coat and his soggy boots to dry beside it. It felt good to get rid of the weight. Fayt stalked like a zombie to his bed and aligned himself between the cold sheets, pulling the covers up over his head to warm up faster. But as soon as his eyelids touched, he was asleep.

* * *

If it hadn't been for the rays of light shining through his window and falling directly over his eyes, Fayt thought he might have never woken up. He slept so well it almost hurt to drag himself up out of his warm bed. The fire had burned itself out some time ago; only a few embers struggled to survive in the ashy fireplace.

Standing and wavering slightly, he made his way to his bag and fished out some of the bread and cheese that Woltar's servants had provided for him and Albel. As he devoured a bit he reminded himself to be sure to force-feed the stubborn swordsman later, if need be. Albel was the type that hardly ate a thing when he was determined to do something. No wonder he was so damn skinny. Fayt wondered from where he got all of his energy.

After easing the pain in his stomach he reapplied his outerwear, glad to find them dry. Albel was waiting downstairs when he arrived, and the two set out across town toward the castle.

As they passed the guards at the gate, Fayt observed without much surprise that Albel completely ignored their salutes. He just trailed behind, sure that these soldiers were used to the captain's cold attitude.

While the king was being summoned from his quarters, they waited in the hallway outside the throne room. Albel paced, clearly distraught with his impending venture down into the squalid bowels of the castle. Fayt watched him in equal agitation, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to calm the man's nerves.

A servant promptly returned and announced that the king would receive them. The pair entered into the hall. Fayt stopped and bowed his head low to the crowned man seated on the humble throne, but Albel moved up close and lowered himself to his knees.

"Albel, and Master Fayt too! It is nice to see you again." The king smiled in surprise at seeing the blue-haired foreigner. "I am sorry you had to cross the mountains in such terrible weather, but the nature of my summons requires immediate attention. As you know, the men who went down to explore the catacomb have not returned. Everyone that was sent in thereafter has met with the same result. Albel, four of your men were with them."

"I was told," the addressed said.

"Then you understand that as their captain it is your duty to take over the investigation. But I urge you to exercise extreme caution."

Albel bowed his head and stood to leave. Fayt moved to follow after, but the king stopped him.

"Master Fayt, a moment please."

Fayt turned. "Sir?"

Once Albel had turned and left the room, the man gave Fayt an inquisitive look. "Forgive my rudeness, but I was under the assumption that you would be returning home once your battles were over."

"Oh, yes, well it's a complicated story really."

"No matter. Are you to be staying with Albel then?"

"Yes."

The king thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Well, if you are willing to aid us here today, you have my most sincere thanks. I have heard much about your combat and leadership skills. Would you possibly be interested in joining our knights?"

That was certainly quick. He hadn't even done anything yet. "I would be honored, your majesty."

"It pleases me to hear that. But now is not the time to discuss the matter further. Albel is probably already downstairs. Please do be on your guard."

"Thank you. I will." Fayt bowed and hurried out of the room to catch up with Albel. The swordsman had already descended the steps and was waiting in the foyer to the dungeons. There was nobody there on duty.

Albel turned to face Fayt and pulled the Crimson Scourge singing from its sheath. "Let's go."

Fayt nodded and readied his own blade. There was something in the air not unlike the electricity before a thunderstorm. The pair descended further into the dungeons. Fayt didn't have to wonder long where the secret entryway lay. At the end of the last corridor of cells, where there was normally a wall, a jagged hole yawned and a pile of rubble stood pushed off to the side. The space beyond was dark and silent.

Fayt activated the lightstone on and began toward the gap. When he reached it he stopped and peered warily inside. The air was thin and tinged with the smell of mold and ancient dirt. He saw the glint of rusty bars enclosing the first cell but nothing more beyond that.

"Why do you think they walled this place up anyway?" Fayt asked. When he didn't hear a reply and realized that Albel was not next to him, he turned. The older swordsman was standing with the tip of his sword resting on the ground, his legs spread slightly to support him as he rested his forehead against the palm of his steel gauntlet. His eyes were closed and pain wrote itself all across his features. His teeth were bared.

Fayt's eyes opened wide as he hurried to the Glyphian's side. "Albel! What is it? What's wrong?" The man didn't answer, and Fayt grew worried. But when he saw a thin, bright stream of blood run from Albel's right ear, he was positively frightened.

"Oh my god, Albel, snap out of it!" Fayt grabbed onto the wrist of the man's gauntlet and shook it.

Albel growled and pushed the boy away. "It's nothing; just a headache. Let's just get this over with." With that he shook his head and marched determinedly into the chasm.

Fayt followed after with the lightstone raised. Water dripped down the wall opposite the one lined with jail cells and formed a small pool on the floor; the rest was sucked into the earth. They walked on, amazed at how big the place was. Hallways twisted into other hallways like a labyrinth.

When they rounded the third corner, Fayt hoped they wouldn't somehow get lost within that awful place. The air was so thin it was hard to breathe. Suddenly a man's moaning, filled with pain and despair, came from somewhere up ahead. The sound of it made Fayt shiver to the bone.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered; he hoped he wasn't growing delusional from the lack of oxygen.

"Quiet, fool." Albel bit mutedly.

They stole forward a bit until the light shone on a sobbing figure huddled in the corner facing away from them. It was obvious that it was shaking violently, even from their distance.

They approached stealthily until they could see that whoever it was was wearing the garb of Albel's squadron.

"Cecil?" Albel said with some shock.

The man ceased his stifled wailing but did not lift his head. "C-captain?" The voice that issued forth was full of despair and almost unearthly. He stood slowly, still facing away from them. "Please…h-help meeee."

"What are you doing here? Where are the others?" Albel demanded.

The man sighed, mucous so thick in his throat it sounded more like a distant rockslide. His voice suddenly altered into something dark and malicious when he spoke again. "You should have never come here. He'll find you. No matter where you try to run. He'll take you. You cannot hide."

The man suddenly whirled around and snarled at them. Fayt's first reaction was to cry out in horror, but he braced himself with his sword ready to plow through the transformed creature before them. The man was no longer recognizable as such, for the skull of a rotting bull sat atop his shoulders. There were no eyes within the stretched sockets, but a mysterious red light glared through them.

Albel wasted no time with mercy. His sword flew straight through the head and sent shards of dry bones scattering. The possessed creature fell to the floor like a burlap sack stuffed with wet sand.

"What in the world was that?" Fayt cried.

"Fuck." Albel stared down at his former subordinate in disbelief. He suddenly became angry. "What the hell are we dealing with down here?"

* * *

To be continued…

A/N: Sorry for the ridiculous delay. It's amazing how brutally school can sever the artery that is any sort of life outside of it. I should be working on my story for my fiction class, but eh. I miss writing this. Thanks to those of you that take the time to punch out your thoughts in that measly review box. It may seem pointless to leave reviews for the writers of yaoi fanfiction (I know damn well you're initially here for instant gratification ), but for the ones that really put thought and sweat into their stories, I can safely say that we _greatly_ appreciate it!


	7. Nightmares in the Underground

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Seven

* * *

The pair didn't speak for a long moment, but simply stared at the atrocity lying at their feet. The sockets that had glowed with unearthly light were dull and dead now; the voice that had recently expressed immeasurable suffering and despair seemed only a dream, or a hallucination when in full view of the demon's face which harbored it. Neither of them even wanted to say anything. It would have only made the reality more horrible.

Albel was the first to initiate any sort of movement, but Fayt followed close behind, snapped out of his reverie. Stepping carefully over what had once been Cecil's human body, the two continued deeper into the hidden dungeon lying like a forgotten corpse beneath Airyglyph Castle. As they walked the air became significantly colder, and Fayt watched his breath plume into white clouds before his face. He wanted to draw attention to it, but instead kept his lips shut. There was no way Albel couldn't have noticed anyway.

They were coming up the end of the passage. Though it was a dead end they continued to approach it, and Fayt saw Albel glare irritably at the wall in the soft glow of the lightstone. There was nothing, no one there. But the other troops who had descended into this very hall couldn't have just disappeared without a trace. The two stole an uncomfortable glance at one another.

"You've been checking all the cells, have you not?" Albel's voice was low and controlled while his eyes remained fixed on the wall, as if the thing would suddenly crumble and reveal another mess of passages abandoned for centuries.

"Yeah, but I didn't see anything. Just a few old cots."

Albel nodded. "Then there is nothing left for us to do here."

Fayt wondered what the king would say once they returned, the slaying of the only survivor (if the man could have been called that) their one accomplishment. "But—"

"Save it," Albel bit. "They're obviously dead, or else they fled when no one was looking, the fools."

With that, Albel turned and began back toward the entrance. He was clearly perturbed by the lack of any evidence suggesting that others had even been there, though he tried to conceal it with his usual smug expression. But even as they walked away, the temperature continued to plummet.

The pair followed the halls—it turned out nearly impossible to get lost as there were no forks in their path, just a seemingly endless spans of corridors—and when they came back to the first cell, where the threshold to the other wing of dungeons lay, they found more cells stretching out before them. The ice in the air was visible then, like glitter drifting down in a snow globe, and cut like needles. They stopped and Albel suddenly flung his head around to look behind. A wall.

"We're back where we ended up," he said to no one in particular.

"Are you sure?" Fayt gingerly touched the wall. It felt solid enough. "We couldn't have just walked through this."

"I know that, fool. Yet here we are." Albel ground his teeth.

Along the stretch of stones opposite the cellblocks, where tepid water had been dripping along the cracks, a creaking sound rippled and sliced the quiet surrounding them. Both sets of eyes turned toward the noise and watched as ice grew from the ceiling down through the thin rivulets, solidifying the fetid drool within seconds.

The lightstone suddenly flickered. Fayt glared at it and gave it a hard shake. It responded by glowing progressively brighter until the entire corridor was illuminated in all its bleak glory, as if the noonday sun had suddenly breached the underground and glared without mercy on a place never meant to be swathed in light. The very walls seemed to bulge and retract at the sudden, unwelcome white flood. The bars glistened violently and ricocheted the rays away like bullets. Then all at once the lightstone fizzled and died out completely, leaving the pair to utter blackness. The sound of ice crackled with a faint echo ahead in the distance.

Fayt smacked the orb against his palm; nothing happened. All was quiet, but he could hear Albel's breath quicken almost imperceptibly. Or was that his own? He suddenly had the terrible, oppressive sensation that he was alone between those cold walls and instinctively reached out to where Albel had last been standing. A freezing breath of air met his hand instead.

"Albel? Where are you?" There was no reply. "Come on, say something." Still nothing. His panic swelled. "Hey! Albel!" He was nearly shouting.

Fayt took a tentative step forward, groping the dead air, fingers searching desperately for something, anything, that would pull him from that void. His fingers crashed hard into a wall and he quickly drew them back, sucking in a sharp breath and a curse. He could hardly feel his numbed fingertips as it was. Ignoring it as best he could, he fanned both hands out along the stones and began to walk slowly, using it as a guide. That Albel had suddenly disappeared was less crucial than simply getting out of that awful darkness, which seemed to creep like a disorienting fume into his mind. There was nothing he could do for his friend now if he himself was at the mercy of whatever, if anything, watched him with smiling lips from the pitch. He would find his way out, race to acquire another lightstone, and come back to find Albel. Yes. That's what he would do. Maybe one of the other knights would help him out. Or someone else from the castle. Anyone.

He felt a corner in the wall and turned, tripping on something long lying in his path. His balance abandoned him and he fell over it, realizing even on the way down that whatever it was felt both soft and sturdy. Like a body. He caught his weight with his hands before his face could connect with the cold stone floor, and something like a cloth snake was crushed beneath his hand. As he sat there for a moment trying to recollect himself, his hand moved as if by its own will in search of some end to the strange thing. He felt hair. One of Albel's tails.

Panic renewed, Fayt scrabbled to a less awkward kneeling position. He feared the worst when he reached out to touch the fallen body, but was completely at a loss for reaction when he realized there was nothing there. But he had only withdrawn his hand for a second, and he had definitely tripped over something. There was no feasible way that whatever it was could have been dragged away in that time, and without him at least hearing it.

Confused and half mad with fear, Fayt jumped to his feet and sought the wall again. He stood with his back against the thing, his only source of security, and tried to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. He swallowed and closed his eyes, focusing on his central energy point to calm down. Focus…focus. Wait. Of course! In his frenzy he had completely mislaid his magical abilities. His eyes flew open and Fayt chanted a few words, summoning a bright ball of red fire to his hands. It swirled and sputtered dangerously until he consciously condensed his powers, shrinking the orb to a manageable source of warm light. With it he was finally able to glance around, but what he saw made him wish he were left back to total darkness.

* * *

Albel moved to elbow Fayt harshly in the ribs after vainly calling out to the blue-haired boy in the sudden darkness, but when he caught only air he nearly fell flat on his face. He stumbled and regained his balance at the last second, snarling in red-hot irritation.

"Hey! Don't you dare try to leave without me, or I swear I'll gut you." He squinted in the dark to no avail. Nothing could be made out much less sensed at all. "Answer me, maggot!"

Albel knew he was alone, he could sense that much at least. Although the vague feeling of eyes upon him pervaded his brain, the dizzying atmosphere also muddled his reason. Surely he was imagining it. He shook his head as if that would help him. In fact it only made his skull ache more.

Since the moment he first set foot in the foyer to that damnable pit, something felt as though it were attempting to claw its way either into or out of his head. No stranger to sudden headaches, he thought nothing of it and just pushed it aside so that he could simply get his work done. But from the second he saw that black hole gaping in the wall, like the yawning maw of death itself, the pain had instantly tripled. He didn't like that. Not the pain by any means, but the loss of control, the will to mentally defy the physical. He had tried so hard his ears actually bled. Only when he stepped through the wall did the agony subside, which just angered him more. It was as though whatever was waiting down there, waiting and watching, was merely playing with him. The heinous alteration of his former subordinate proved that much.

He groped out for a moment until he found the wall and began to walk alongside it. The bitter air chewed through his skin and made his bones ache, but he kept his pace, refusing to stop lest he freeze over completely. The exit had to be close. A crooked rock jutting out of the wall scraped his thigh as he passed it. Damn it all. He suddenly wished he had forced Fayt to teach him a few of those infernal magic tricks earlier. Maybe then he could get through this unscathed.

He had been walking for nearly five whole minutes without a single corner to lead him down another hallway, though he knew from his initial walk that no such corridor was so long. Suddenly the Crimson Scourge hummed in its sheath at his side. He thought he heard a soft, feminine voice say his name somewhere just ahead. He stopped and listened. It came again, barely above a whisper, not a step from his right side. His body tensed and he gripped the handle of his sword.

"Who's there?" He faced the direction of the voice though he still could not see anything.

A light giggle echoed behind him and he whipped about to see a faint light hovering in the palm of a pale, blonde woman's hand. She was looking directly at him and smiling benignly. The recognition hit him so brutally his knees nearly collapsed beneath him.

"M-mother?"

Her smile widened at the word. "Are you lost in the dark again, Little Albel?" Her voice was soft and sweet, but resonated strangely with hollowness.

Albel's brows knit tightly in concentration as he attempted to discover a fatal flaw in the specter that would prove it to be a hoax. But nothing was made visible.

The woman's head jerked to the side, but her eyes never left his face. She tittered like a small bird. "Your father would be so disappointed in you. No, he already is."

"What is this nonsense?" He could hardly think of anything meaningful to say. Whatever this trick, this illusion of light was doing to him it worked well.

The woman blinked languidly. "Ahhh. Always with the questions. Have you not learned anything on your own by now?"

Albel stared at her. Inexplicable compulsion vibrated in his feet, and he desired to approach her, but instead grimaced and shook his head to dispel the fog. "Whatever you are, be gone from my sight. That woman is dead."

"It is because of your incessant questions, your fear of the dark, that he is dead. It is because of you that Glou is dead." She pronounced his father's name with cold precision.

"Be gone!"

"And because of you that I too am dead."

Albel's mind reeled. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and to distract himself. The shock of dull pain grounded him and he glared at the apparition. "I know not what you desire, but I swear you shall pay with every one of your limbs for this farce."

The woman smiled in pure glee, like a child receiving a long-coveted toy on her birthday. She bent forward and hovered her face just barely an inch from Albel's. Her expression grew unquestionably serious. "No, it is _you_ who shall pay, Albel."

With one last wickedly delighted grin the phantom vanished, taking the dim light with it. Albel was left to darkness again, and the cold had never felt so merciless.

* * *

He was sure he was hallucinating at this point, and Fayt rubbed his eyes until they cried out in pain. But when the green geometric shapes dissipated from behind his eyelids and he finally braved another chance in opening them, the same scene, illuminated in the barely bright firelight, lay before him. His pupils dilated in sheer revulsion and horror.

There were piles of them. Bodies. Behind the cell bars. Both moving and immobile. There were whole ones, limbs, rotting and fresh, bones the color of mildew, components that he could not identify. They seeped and writhed like bloody entrails around and in between one another. They made horrible sounds, too loud to be natural.

Fayt's knees buckled and he slid down the wall into a crumpled pile of shock. He had never seen anything like this, not even in his most vivid nightmares. His mind repeated over and over the falsity of what he was seeing, but he still couldn't wholly believe it.

A figure stepped out from behind one of the mounds of carnage; it was a man. His arms and eyes were gone and only shallow holes surrounded by what looked like wounds that had clotted but never healed remained. He hobbled closer until the cell bars stopped him and then he leaned into them as if he had never tasted relief until that moment. His ghastly countenance turned and faced Fayt.

"Whhyy?" The voice that issued from his mouth was a gale passing through a barren valley.

The man's head rotated then, and Fayt heard the vertebrae cracking. Despite the nausea that welled up in his stomach, and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not turn away. Something about this man captivated him, though he did not know why.

"You…you….are….monster….this is what….your power….to us…"

Alarm flared up in Fayt's mind, but its nature was just barely out of reach. He shook his head at the man from want of any other action.

"We…so cruelly…you killed…"

The raw, destructive energy that lay dormant within his veins lazily blinked its eyes from slumber before closing them again and Fayt suddenly understood. These were the people he had killed without even being aware of it. These were the bodies his power had mutilated before sending them to the grave. These were the nameless, the faceless, his enemies. Yes, he had leveled an entire ship of them.

"Homes…lives…" The man staggered.

Another form, a woman with burns covering so much of her body she was just barely recognizable as such, emerged from the seething shadows accompanied by a child who also had burn marks, which had consumed half of her young face. The other half was pure and innocent, a seed of remarkable beauty that never had the chance to germinate. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She looked so much like Sophia used to…

"Give them back…" the woman moaned behind the man.

"Give them back…" the little girl echoed.

Fayt watched in a mixture of fright and sudden self-loathing as the child reached her arms through the bars toward him. He stood up, his gaze fixed on the naked pleading in her sparkling green eye, and approached her. Her resemblance to Sophia in childhood was so uncanny. She compelled him, and he was ready. Ready to confess his sins, to confess everything he had done wrong since the day of his birth. Ready to offer something, anything to appease her. He wanted to reassure her that he had no choice...

But when Fayt reached out his eyes began to ache, and he shut them for a moment to ease the pain. He was hardly sure when they were open again, as blackness once again consumed him from every side. He was in the dark, his arms stretched through the gaps between the bars of an empty cell. His spell had exhausted itself, and no one was there.

* * *

Albel kicked the loose rock that had wavered his stride when he stepped on it. He could hear it careening along the floor until it smacked into a metallic bar. He grumbled and kept walking, his sense of hearing piqued to maximum in the event of another strange encounter. Whoever it was that had enjoyed toying with him to such an extent had obviously known something about his past. But how it knew which buttons to push was another question. Albel swore when he found the culprit, whether it was from this world or not, he would take his time in dismantling it with his claws. This was personal.

As he passed the cell where the rock had bounced to, he heard something shuffle. Ignoring it, he pressed on. Then, from the shadows, something kicked the same rock, or so he assumed, and the thing skidded across the floor to land in his path again. Once he felt it beneath his shoe, he stopped and noisily sighed.

"I know you're there. If you have some dealings with me then come out with it already! Or are you too terrified that I will strike you down?" His threat was genuine, though he also hoped it would provoke the invisible force that had been watching him the entire time into revealing itself. An unearthly chuckle emanated like wrinkled silk from the cell across from him.

Albel stopped and glared through the darkness. "Show yourself."

"And tell me, what good would that do you? To see my form…" The voice was deep and clear but strangely subtle in its inflection; it was obvious that the speaker could be a powerful orator if he chose. But there was something unnamable about it that sent chills of both apprehension and curiosity down Albel's spine.

"We can discuss that after I tear your eyes out," the swordsman snarled and prepared to extract his katana.

"Always with the threats. I wonder whether or not you are truly capable of carrying them out."

"Then come and test me."

There was a moment quiet, each one sizing up the other, though Albel was at a distinct disadvantage. He didn't care though. He would not be made a fool of.

"Are you not at all concerned with the sake of your friend? I am a bit surprised you have not inquired about him, or even your comrades for that matter," the mysterious voice spoke.

That's right. Fayt had disappeared. Somewhere within the din of this nightmare he had forgotten all about the kid. Something about the dense blackness had made him mislay the nature of his being there at all. But he didn't want to let the slip show. "What are you getting at?"

"Do you not want to see him again? He is, after all, the only one you have left now."

"How dare you speak so casually to me…"

The voice in the dark continued like Albel hadn't spoken. "But perhaps your past will be too much for you to overcome. Will you allow him to be destroyed as you did your own parents?"

Albel marked the direction from which the voice was coming and strode toward it, uncaring that he could not see a thing. His sword sliced up along the sheath as he withdrew it and he plunged the blade with deadly precision through the bars into the cell.

"Hahaha. What are you trying to do?" The laughter was dreadful more for its fragile beauty than its empty resonance.

"I _will_ kill you. One way or another." Albel's head suddenly began to ache again. A faint, constant ringing scraped along his eardrums, steadily growing louder. When the sound had swelled to overbearing, he staggered and dropped his sword in favor of cradling his head. It felt as though his skull would implode.

"Stop being so rash. I was merely curious," the being spoke. "Besides, you cannot kill me."

He could not tell whether the voice now came from outside or from within his head, and Albel hardly felt himself drop to his knees with intensified pain. A strange, yellowish light gradually filled the corridor and the presence made itself known by stepping forward through the iron bars, as if they were made of vapor, and standing before Albel. The swordsman forced his eyes open against the onslaught of agony and bared his teeth, taking in the visage of his new mortal enemy.

It was a young man, tall and pale to the point that he nearly looked like a corpse, but not unpleasant to look upon. His hair was shoulder-length and pure white. The clothes that shrouded him were black and red, cut in a style foreign and ornate, and appeared to be incredibly expensive. A sword that practically dripped dull orange and red flames was at his side in a lax grip. But the eyes of the stranger struck Albel the most. They were molten gold, feral, and shone in the dim like a wildcat's. A disarming smile lay oddly juxtaposed beneath them.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier," the man said as if it was completely rational in its obviousness. "I am Romero, King of the Dead."

The Glyphian snarled, wishing nothing more than to spring upon the demon and attack, but he could hardly move.

Romero placed his free hand on his hip and cocked his head as he studied the man at his feet. "Well now, you do not seem to be in the position of power of which you boasted earlier." He lifted his fiery sword and placed it lightly beneath Albel's chin. "Where did all that passion go?"

Albel's eyes blazed in the light of the demon's sword. "Do not….underestimate…me…" He gathered all his strength and concentration into his arm and threw his claw up into Romero's blade, knocking it away from his face.

The otherworldly chuckle came again. "Oh? Impressive. I believe I will enjoy our time together henceforth. Unfortunately now is not the time for our real game to begin, so I must regretfully bid you adieu."

Romero turned back toward the cell but stopped with an afterthought. "Oh yes, before I go I shall return your 'faithful' underlings to your charge. They are no longer of any use to me." He waved his hand in a wide arc before him and cast one final smirk in Albel's direction before dissipating into a haze of mist.

Suddenly the pain in Albel's head was gone. He stood and whipped about, searching for a presence, but nothing was there. The oppressive sensation of eyes upon him had vanished. He didn't know what Romero meant by returning his troops to him, but hardly had to wait for the answer.

The groaning of multiple voices echoed at the end of the hall, and he could see three other figures slowly approaching with axes and other bludgeoning weapons in their hands. They wore the royal armor, but they were no longer human. Albel could see that they had undergone the same transformation that Cecil had, and it sickened him all over again.

Burying his disgust along with any hope of their redemption, he rushed forward, sword at the ready. His blade swung with frightening ease through the hard bone of the first monster's skull and he followed the motion through, ducking and spinning under the axe of another that was flying straight toward his neck. He swooped the katana up from his crouched position at a slanted angle, sectioning the next body into two. The third abomination was quicker than he had anticipated, and he barely got his claw up in time to block a blow from the club that descended with fatal intentions toward his head. He parried the attack, circling his arm tightly around the thing to throw it out of the still-human hand and knock the monster off balance. Taking advantage of this sudden opening, he zigzagged his sword all the way down his foe's body and watched with little emotion as it fell like jigsaw pieces to the floor. None of them had bled. Instead, it appeared from the naked gashes that every drop of their human essence had been drained, drying their viscera to dust.

By force of habit, Albel jerked his sword as if there had been gore clinging to it. He resheathed it and walked away, refusing to look back, refusing to allow any sort of blessing or regret for his comrades to pass through his lips let alone his mind. Whatever fate lay in store for them next was none of his concern. It was unfortunate, yes, but whether or not the gods truly looked after mortal affairs did not matter; even if on the off chance they did usher the dead into some kind of afterlife, they were still cruel and unfit for worship. That alone was the extent of his faith.

The dim though unaccountable light still lingered in the passages, and Albel followed them back toward the way out. As he rounded a corner he saw a shivering mass of white and blue crumpled on the floor against a wall. He picked up his pace.

"Where have you been?" Albel barked at Fayt, who suddenly looked up with wild eyes.

Fayt sighed in relief. "It's you!" He stood and mindlessly dusted off his backside. He wanted to see relief on his friend's face to match his own, but Albel's expression was cold. The mood was infectious and Fayt became irritated. "I could ask you the same thing, you know. You suddenly disappeared on me."

"Let's save the argument and just get the hell out of here." Albel strode past the other, refusing to pause to make sure he was all right, though in light of Romero's cryptic words he had wanted to.

Even in the dim, Fayt could see that Albel was shaking just as much as he was. "Albel, did something…happen to you?"

The Glyphian stopped and whirled around. "Like what?"

Fayt marked the black cloud of fury lingering behind those red eyes and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Never mind."

Albel continued to walk away. So Fayt had seen something too. Though it wasn't surprising, he was curious to know what that something was. If anything it might aid him in figuring out the demon's motives. But at the moment all he wanted was to see the sun again, to know he wasn't truly trapped in some eternal hell underground.

* * *

Albel didn't bother reporting to the king once his step landed on the main floor of the castle; his path led straight to the watchtower door. He ascended the long spiraling flight of stairs, racing up them two at a time. It was snowing again outside, and the air was bitter, but still not nearly as infernally cold as the dungeons had been. Ignoring the curious glances of the guards, he leaned up against the short tower wall and let the cloud-veiled sun fall on his face.

Fayt was too weary to move up the stairs as Albel had done, but he ascended them with the same anxiousness for seeing the sky. He could do without windowless stone walls for the rest of his life if he had any say in the matter.

The Earthborn boy moved to stand next to Albel, placing his hands on the thick wall sill and breathing the winter air in deep. He was beginning to think Albel was right about his claustrophobia.

The two stood like that for some time, neither saying a word about what they had seen. Neither of them even knew how. What they had experienced was too surreal, too nightmarish to be put justifiably into words.

A castle guard appeared at the top of the stairs and saluted Albel's turned back. "Captain Nox, sir!"

The addressed turned and gave the man a withering glare.

The guard averted his eyes. "The king summons you, sir." With that he hurried back down the steps.

Fayt heard something not unlike the growl of a wolf caught in Albel's throat.

"Not a moment too soon, either. The bastard." The swordsman obeyed anyway and descended the tower, with Fayt following wordlessly after.

* * *

After Albel had relayed the report of their journey, eliminating a great chunk of details in favor of the most basic account of what had happened with a snide afterthought that the same fool who had discovered the passages should be the one to wall them back up, the king stared at him for a moment. The man's face was disconcerted; his eyes bored against his subject as if whatever was left unsaid could be psychically exhumed. He was practically on the edge of his seat.

"So they were all dead when you arrived then," the king said and finally dropped his piercing gaze. "That is most terrible." He turned his eyes to Fayt. "Are you sure you discovered nothing that could lend an answer as to the cause of it?"

Fayt stole a quick glance at Albel without moving his head, but the Glyphian was looking straight ahead. He returned his attention to the man seated upon the throne and blinked. "I'm sorry. I wish we had."

The king sighed and settled back deeper into the chair. "Then we will simply have to recover their bodies."

Albel stood from his kneeling position. "I would advise that you send your strongest men then."

"Why should I do that?"

"Because," and Albel looked at the monarch gravely, "a weakling will not be able to handle the sight of them."

The king looked confused, but did not say anything.

"If we are through here," Albel said, and it was clear that he was tired, "I would request your leave."

The king nodded and dismissed them. "You will find your quarters ready. And, if you would not mind showing Master Fayt to a guestroom as well?"

Both Albel and Fayt nodded low and retired from the throne room.

Once on the main level of the castle, Albel immediately approached a guestroom door and tested the handle. It was unlocked, and a hot fire lighted the space beyond. He gestured his head at the boy to enter the room.

Fayt moved to do so, torn between being thrilled at having a warm bed to sleep in and being leery of the dreams that awaited him. He stopped dead in the threshold and turned to look straight into Albel's face. They had been so busy lately, constantly moving, and the days had been hard on them both. Whatever the reason, it felt as though he hadn't seen the man at all during that time. Maybe it was the way their eyes met that caused the realization; seeing that fiery soul flickering behind the sanguine orbs drilling into his own eyes made his heart skip a beat before thudding harder.

The two passed coded thoughts between them for a while before Albel couldn't take it anymore. "Why are you staring at me?"

Blinking his trance away, Fayt shook his head. "It's stupid but…I think I'm afraid to fall asleep."

Albel hardly realized that he had nodded in agreement. He scowled and glared to make up for it. "If you are about to tell me you want to sleep in my quarters, I'll kill you."

Fayt glanced at the empty room behind him. Even with the fire roaring, the thought of being alone at that time made all the heat and sense of security crumble. He looked back at Albel but didn't reply.

The Glyphian's shoulders sagged and he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. But if I hear one peep out of you…"

A small, involuntary smile crept over Fayt's lips and Albel grumbled something incoherent before stomping off in the direction of his own room, a few doors down. Though Albel had made a show of wanting otherwise, Fayt could tell he was not adverse to company at all. And after what the two of them had been through, there was nothing blamable about that.

Albel's room was just the same as the guest room, except for the various swords and daggers decorating the walls. Fayt shut the door behind him and studied the impressive collection. Some were obviously old and worn, but they had been cared for and displayed as if they were otherwise. One in particular caught his attention: an ornate long sword mounted above the head of the bed in the corner. He moved closer to study it, and reached out to touch the faceted, ruby-colored jewel embedded in its pommel.

"Don't. Touch that." Albel seized Fayt's wrist roughly and pulled it away. At the hurt and startled look in the boy's green eyes he quickly released his grasp and stepped back. He occupied himself with stirring the fire instead. "That was my father's."

"Oh, sorry." Fayt sat on the floor with his back against the bed and tried to ignore the strange expression on Albel's face. He pulled off his boots and threw them across the room toward the door.

"Please make yourself at home," Albel said sarcastically.

When the man began the tedious work of removing the armor and clawed gauntlet from his left arm, Fayt stood and approached carefully. "Can I help you with that?"

Albel threw a sharp sidelong glance at him and turned away. "I am no invalid."

"I wasn't suggesting that. I was just trying to be useful."

"You can be useful by keeping your mouth shut for the rest of the night."

Fayt sighed and sat heavily upon the bed.

Albel pulled the claw from his mutilated fingers and turned back at the creaking sound. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What?"

The Glyphian looked at Fayt and lifted his chin in a gesture that said he was not amused.

The blue-haired boy shrugged. "You told me to make myself at home."

"Hmph." Albel finished removing his armor and set the pieces on a table away from the fire. "When I said you could stay here I did not mean that you could share my bed."

Fayt blushed. He hadn't entertained any thoughts that deviated from innocence until that moment. He stood up and moved a few steps away.

"I'm just imposing on you. I should go back." Fayt eyed the door. When Albel didn't reply he started to walk toward it.

The Glyphian watched the shining blue-haired head move further away and the sound of Romero's voice unwillingly echoed in his mind. _'He is, after all, the only one you have left now.'_ Exactly what that damned demon was implying was lost to him, but he felt deep in his bones that something rang true in those words, though he had no desire to labor for its real meaning. But what he did know was that he didn't want Fayt to leave.

"Wait."

Fayt turned, expressionless.

Albel bit the inside corner of his lip before continuing. "Just keep to your side of the bed, got it?"

Fayt nodded and returned. Without bothering to undress he slid into bed and curled up close to the wall, his back to the room. It was large enough; they would be able to sleep without disturbing one another, but he still felt somewhat awkward.

Albel kept his clothes on as well, though they were filthy, and descended beneath the thick fur blanket. He yanked his pillow to fit comfortably beneath his head.

"Albel?"

"What?"

"…Thanks."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

Fayt smiled at the wall and shut his eyes, intense fatigue suddenly licking at his mind. "Good night." He was already half asleep.

Albel grimaced with closed eyes. It was strange, but at the same time horribly comforting. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said those words to him.

That night the demons kept their distance, and the two quickly fell into painless, blessedly dreamless slumber.

* * *

To be continued… 


	8. Restless

When the Sun Rises Red

Bye Eerie

Eight

* * *

When Fayt awoke, Albel was already gone. The bed was turned up on the other side, with the pillows placed on top of the furs, as if Fayt hadn't been there at all. He groaned and blinked against the deceptively bright sunlight cascading in through the windows. Wondering what time it was, and whether they would be entailing another journey through the snowy mountains, Fayt pulled himself up with no small amount of regret. Any hope that somehow the snow outside had miraculously melted was chased away with the last comforts of a warm bed as soon as he peered out through the window at the white peaks glaring in the light.

After strapping his tall armored boots to his feet, Fayt left the room to search for the elusive swordsman. Something told him that Albel was out sparring somewhere, as the man usually did when he was the first one up. Fayt wandered toward the end of the hall that led to the training courtyard and noticed that there weren't many people about the castle. Then again, since there were really no crops or gardens to be cared for in such a cold, arid clime, he doubted there was much reason for most Glyphians to wake up early.

The air outside was as frigid as he expected, though that didn't make it any easier to adjust to. Masculine grunts and snarls met his ears with the bitter gust when he opened the door to the courtyard, and Fayt saw Albel in a fierce sword-lock with another Airyglyph soldier. He stood with arms crossed over his chest to watch for a while instead of calling out to the Glyphian. He had never seen Albel spar with anyone other than himself and was curious to see if the man fought differently with others. From what he could see, as the soldier was bending away from the force, Albel was either going easy on his opponent or the other man was just weaker. It was probably the latter. He couldn't imagine Albel going easy on anyone. But maybe that was just because Fayt was so used to getting a full onslaught of force whenever the two fought.

The other soldier's sword was suddenly parried and the blade spun out of his hand. He stumbled and then, realizing his imminent defeat, lowered himself to one knee before Albel's insistent blade, which was aimed at his neck. With a flourish, Albel withdrew from his potentially lethal position and resheathed his sword.

"You need more practice if you want to become a knight, as you claim."

The man bowed his head in understanding. "Yes, captain."

Albel turned to depart, but when he saw the blue-haired Earthling watching near the door, he faltered.

Fayt raised an eyebrow at this reaction but didn't say anything.

"Is there something you wanted, or are you just going to stand there gawking all day?"

Fayt shook his head. "Actually I was just curious to see what you were up to. Morning practice as usual I see?"

"Hmph. What do you care?"

"Is there somewhere to eat around here? I'm starving." Fayt placed his hands on his stomach as if it would emphasize his point.

Albel sneered. "You couldn't have just asked one of the chambermaids?"

"I never saw one, and I didn't want to go snooping around the castle and accidentally barge into someone's room."

"How conscientious of you." Albel tromped past Fayt and through the castle door.

Fayt followed but the pair didn't get far beyond the threshold before being stopped by one of the young castle pages. From the look of it, the boy had been scampering all over the castle trying to find them; his dark eyes went wide in surprise at the near-collision before his face fell slack in relief. The boy bent and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Lord…Albel…Master…Fayt…"

The two men looked at the bewildered child in comparable astonishment. His clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed in weeks, or even months, and his face was blotched with smudges of dirt. The cape at his back was torn ragged at the hem.

"The king summons you…right away."

"What for?" Albel barked.

Breath sufficiently caught, the boy straightened. "His Majesty has business to attend to, so he has requested that Master Fayt's initiation into the Knights of Airyglyph take place today, as he does not wish to keep you for too long, you just returning and all." The page glanced at Fayt before his eyes flickered over to Albel in what seemed like a meaningful look.

Fayt could practically hear the blood start to boil in Albel's veins in response to the boy's slip into informality. He spoke quickly to prevent any stinging insult from escaping the other man's throat. "When does he have in mind?"

"Right now, sir, if that is possible." Again he glanced at the two of them before casting his eyes shyly to the floor.

"Well? Is that all?" Albel bit.

"Sir," the boy answered and saluted the captain before dashing away.

"I swear they dredge those little urchins straight from the sewers," Albel said with apparent disgust as he watched after the retreating boy. "Unruly little maggot."

"Oh, like you were more respectful when you were a kid, Albel," Fayt said and smirked.

"I knew my place. And I knew how to address my superiors."

"Yeah right."

Albel glared hard into green eyes. "Do you not have somewhere you need to be right now? You ought to get your ass moving."

Fayt dropped his playful air. "What? Aren't you coming with me?"

Abel started to walk back in the direction of his room. "Bah. What for? I've seen enough of those ceremonies as it is. They bore me."

"But…!"

Stopping, Albel looked back and rested his clawed gauntlet on his hip.

"But, it's _my_ ceremony." Fayt's voice was quieter, clearly stung.

"Yes, so it is." Albel turned and continued on his way, raising an arm in farewell. "Enjoy it."

What a great way to start my day, Fayt thought, and his stomach growled in agreement. He wanted to throw a curse at the retreating back, but instead bit his tongue and stalked off alone toward the royal hall.

When he arrived, a mousy servant greeted him. "Master Fayt? Please follow me."

The boy did as he was instructed and found himself in a small room lined with various garments. The servant picked an outfit from the bunch immediately—a purple tunic with starched ruffles at the neck and cuffs and pants trimmed in gold braiding—and handed it to Fayt.

"This should fit you," the wiry man said after a pausing a moment to scrutinize the boy's dimensions, "but even if it doesn't there is no need to worry. You only need to wear it for an hour or two anyway."

Fayt held the garments up against his frame and looked down at them skeptically, suddenly feeling the urge to blanch. The ensemble was decidedly…purple.

"Um, I hate to be a pain but, isn't there anything else I can wear?"

The servant shook his head emphatically. "Oh no, absolutely not. You are to become the second-in-command to the Black Brigade after all. It's tradition."

Fayt's eyes went round. "What? The Black Brigade? Are you serious?"

Seeing the stunned expression on the foreigner's face, the servant couldn't help but smile. "You mean nobody informed you? Well, I suppose it _is_ short notice. Are you having second thoughts? I can understand, since you will have to be dealing directly with the infamous Captain N—oh," he said with an expression bordering on horror and suddenly covered his mouth. "Please forgive me."

Fayt laughed. "Don't worry. I promise I won't say anything to him."

The man sighed in relief and rested a hand over his heart. "Anyway, you had better put those on. I will inform His Majesty that you are preparing."

"Wait!" Fayt reached out and grabbed the servant by the arm before he could skitter from the room. "What exactly am I supposed to do out there?"

"Oh, well, there's really nothing to get excited over. I will attend you before the ceremony begins. Then you simply walk up to the throne and kneel down. You just have to put on a nice show of solemn respect before the king and listen for his cues."

"Okay. As long as I don't have to make a speech or anything."

The man smiled one more time before dashing out of the room. Once alone amid the sea of strange clothing, Fayt wriggled out of his own clothes and wondered how many people would even be at the knighting. It sounded like an easy affair to get through, but he was still nervous. He didn't particularly want to go through it alone.

Once the final clasps were in place, he looked down at himself and felt completely ridiculous. He half expected to hear Albel's mocking insults crack from somewhere behind him. Fayt was suddenly thankful that the Glyphian decided to forgo the day's events. At least he would be spared from suffering whatever humiliation the warrior might unleash upon him. But then again, Albel's normal ensemble wasn't much better in his opinion.

Fayt stealthily toed to the door, held onto the heavy wooden thing and peeked around the corner just to be sure that Albel wasn't waiting to jump out and surprise him with a proclamation that this was all just a big practical joke. At that moment the mousy servant came shuffling into view.

"Ready?" the man said and pulled the door open further.

"Um, yeah. As ready as I'm ever going to be."

"Alright, follow me."

* * *

Albel knew that Fayt was hurt by his rejection to attend the ceremony, but he forced his mind to dwell upon other things of no importance rather than feeling even the slightest guilt about it. He didn't quite know why he felt the need to withhold his presence from the events so stubbornly, but once the urge to do so came, he just went with it, knowing full well that Arzei would be furious but caring none the more. It wasn't that he objected to Fayt's induction, actually he was aware that the kid could have used his support, knowing the jealous tendencies of many of the Airyglyph soldiers, it was just that he didn't want to go. Plain and simple. He had better things to do at the moment.

He had risen with the first splinter of sunshine breaking over the mountains, and sparring all morning had made him tired. That and his sleep had been broken several times throughout the night by invisible terrors, but once awake he had no recollection of any nightmares to provoke his start. He scanned the room in search of some foreign entity which might have been a threat, seeing nothing in the dull light of the faded embers within the hearth and hearing nothing but Fayt's soft breathing at his side. Once his heart had sufficiently settled he had turned to study the form that shared his bed. From what he could tell, Fayt was not in a much better place within the realm of dreams; his face was slightly crunched in agitation, but otherwise his body was still. Albel had the equally frightening urge to sink down and pull the sleeper into his own body, to abolish both of their pains in a haze of warmth, but instead he turned away and lied closer to the edge of the bed. When he awoke for the fourth or fifth time, he decided he couldn't take it anymore and just got out of bed.

Now all he wanted to do was to take a nap. His room had already grown cold from the death of the fire long ago, but he didn't feel like rousing another one. Having slept almost fully dressed the night before due to his whining companion's intrusion into his sanctity, Albel was interested only in shedding all his clothes and sleeping the way he preferred to do in his own room.

Once he was unarmed and his clothes lay scattered haphazardly around the bed, Albel sunk beneath the furs and immediately closed his eyes. Before he could fall asleep, he imagined Fayt dressed in that ridiculous getup that tradition insisted its knighthood inductees to don and suddenly grinned. It was a shame he wouldn't get to see it himself. Although he remembered having to wear it himself once upon a time, that didn't mean he wouldn't have mercilessly laid into the younger man with scathing humiliation. He could just see the look on Fayt's face—those wide green eyes sparkling with horror above a pair of burning cheeks and slightly parted lips, trying to form words that would salvage his dignity but failing. Albel chuckled and savored that image until his consciousness faded.

* * *

The ceremony wasn't immense, and for that Fayt was glad. Only the members of the Black Brigade, the king, and an attendant were present. Considering that he was to be ranked second-in-command of the brigade, he was a bit surprised that Albel wasn't present. Apparently Arzei was as well, judging by the slightly peeved expression that lingered over his features.

Fayt walked the runner between the two rows of the brigade's ranks with as much dignity as he could muster, despite the constrictive cut of the tunic's tailored waistline and his overall discomfort. A few of the soldiers hardly bothered to mask their disdain as the suddenly superior outsider walked before them; their silent glares were not lost to Fayt, but he refused to look directly at them. What bothered him more were the shockingly open leers coming from another handful of soldiers on either side. It was true that he did feel rather effeminate in his current attire, but still. Had he not been at such a respectable event, he was sure the catcalls would fly. He could feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Arzei stood once Fayt had approached the throne and took a decorous long sword from his attendant's hands. Fayt kneeled down and rose again once commanded, repeated a few pledges, didn't flinch when the blade was brought down, and then the ceremony was over, sans any embarrassment he had initially feared. The soldiers made an arch overhead as he passed back through and withdrew their salutes once Fayt was clear. As he walked, he was almost certain that this recent status boost was going to be more trouble than he was willing to suffer in the future.

* * *

Albel was down in the dungeons again. It was dark, cold, and he was alone. He was sitting sprawled on the stone floor with his back pressed up uncomfortably against the corner walls and felt immensely groggy, like he had been sleeping in that awful position for hours. He could tell where he was immediately, if not for the familiarity of the place grating on his basic senses, then for the uncanny, prickling fear that stole across his mind.

He struggled against his own body to move into a less open position and realized both his legs had fallen asleep. Icy needles shot through his veins with the movement and he plummeted back down as soon as he tried to stand. Already irritated, he scanned the area until his legs could recover. Up ahead, against the far wall, a torch was lit. It hardly illuminated space more than a few paces around it. A dim orange halo surrounded the ducking flame, betraying the filthy density of the air. The sound of rusty metal hinges occasionally broke the silence not far from him, and though it was impossible to see what was making the noise, he was sure that one of the cell gates was open. Though what was making it swing like that in a nearly airless passage was another question. He wasn't eager to find out the answer.

Feeling that he could finally make it to his feet without having his knees give out, he stood and suddenly realized that his sword was not with him. He ducked down and searched the floor where he was sitting with his hands. The torch at the end of the hall crackled loudly and quickly grew to blazing, lighting the passage well enough for him to see that he was clearly without weapons. Even his gauntlet was mysteriously removed, but the bandages that normally wound his arm were gone as well. He lifted his left hand and examined it, almost panicked to see that it was free from the burn scars. When he flexed his fingers they obeyed, and the normal nerve sensations he had long forgotten were suddenly there, as if the tragedy at his Ascension had never taken place.

The torchlight sputtered and snapped, forcing his attention away. A long shadow slipped along the floor away from the light as whatever, or whoever, it was moved down the other corridor. Curious, he began to move toward the light. The gate that swung lazily ahead suddenly slammed shut as he passed, making him jump and instinctively reach for the ghost of his sheath. Scowling at the bars, he continued along, but the gate to the next cell flew open, nearly striking him. A low moan filled with pain and despair issued from within the prison before the bars slammed back closed again. He ground his teeth and started to walk, but at his first step away, every one of the cells' doors snapped open and closed again, filling the underground corridor with deafening metallic applause.

He was tempted to cover his ears against the assault, but instead he bolted down the remainder of the passage to escape the blasting noise. When he reached the end and turned to the next passage, the torch fire behind him dulled to deep red, casting the corridor before him in bloody light. The cells behind were still, and the newfound silence made his ears ring painfully in the absence of the banging. He paused, noticing that something was at the end of that hallway, something strange. It was massive and immobile, and not human. Cautiously, he made his way down the hall, refusing to flinch as the dead torches that spotted the wall to his left suddenly winked and spit up vermilion flames as he approached them. The hallway looked positively stained in blood by the time he reached the thing that blocked the passage. The last torch near the abomination hadn't lit, but he could see from the light of the others that it was a poorly made wooden construction. A cross. Long crooked nails spiked out in random places from the boards, places where nails weren't needed to hold the thing together at all. A deep shadow fell into the center of the structure, obscuring a full view of the thing.

He had been studying it in the weird light for a while before the sound of something dripping sharpened his ears. He looked closer and saw that the source was within that shadow; a pool of something dark, nearly black in the crimson light, was growing directly beneath it. To his disgust, he could see the slanted base of the cross sopping the substance up into its grain.

It was then that the discomfort and wariness that sat in his stomach welled up into genuine terror. With a hesitant hand, he reached slowly into the shadow and came into contact with something soft. He drew his arm sharply back, recognizing the sensation as flesh. He tried again, this time at a higher angle, where he expected a face to be, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop.

A cold hand suddenly latched on to his wrist. He grunted in shock and attempted to yank his arm away, but the hand within the shadow would not loosen its grip. Instead his arm was being pulled in deeper until something warm, soft, and wet enclosed his fingers to the knuckles. He heard a groan similar to that which had drifted from the cell earlier, if not from the same throat, but this one was clearly compelled by lust. Within that velvet enclosure something slowly began to swirl, and it was then that he realized his fingers were buried in somebody's mouth.

Disgusted, he pulled his hand away with all his force and nearly fell over backward once freed. In the dim light he could see that the dark substance, which was still trickling out onto the floor, was drenching his fingertips and lining his wrists in the outline of the grip that had held him. He shook his arm hard to fling the sticky muck away before moving straight for the nearest lit torch and ripping it away from its sconce. The light filled in the black hollow within the cross and he was finally able to see who was there.

He recognized the shock of blue hair first, though it was now limp, damp, and matted against its owner's face. It was Fayt on that cross, nude, arms and legs bound to the structure by what appeared to be razor wire. Which meant that the hand that had seized his wrist before could not have been from the person before him now, but he was too startled to give that passing concern much consideration. His attention was fixed on the blood. It seeped from the skin beneath the wire, from the silent mouth, and from between unmoving thighs. Something unspeakable had been done to him, apart from crucifixion itself. He had to get Fayt down from there. He only hoped the kid was still alive. Either way, he vowed that the one responsible for this would die very, very slowly.

The wire was strong and thin, and sliced through his fingertips without hesitation as soon as he attacked the mess of it that bound Fayt's ankles. Wincing at the precise pain, he wished more than anything that he had his claws. It was clear that he was not going to be able to undo those bonds, so he reached up and tried to shake Fayt into consciousness. He called out the kid's name, but Fayt didn't react at all. Dread laden with a chill to rival the bite of the corridor filled his stomach.

When he heard the laughter echoing in that hollow stone hall he didn't need to seek a face. He already knew to whom it belonged. The sound of it had been seared into his memory once before.

* * *

A banquet was held in the great hall, where Fayt wasn't surprised to find more of a crowd. After answering several greetings, congratulations, and general curiosities, Fayt was already tired. He could tell from the stuffy atmosphere that many of the Glyphians didn't trust him yet, nor did they approve of such a rapid advancement of an outsider who hadn't even served in the Airyglyph military. But most of them made a decent show of civility, at least the ones who spoke to him. Stealing a bit of food and retiring to an empty table, he realized after surveying the room that Albel was not there either. 

Curious, Fayt hurried to eat and excused himself from the large room without much notice from the others. His first stop would be the dressing room, where his own, exceedingly more comfortable clothes awaited him. But as he walked, he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong.

He hardly had time to lay eyes on his clothes when he heard his communicator blipping; he had almost completely forgotten that he had stowed it away in his pants pocket before the trip from Kirlsa.

After fishing a hand through his folded pants to find it, Fayt flipped the device on and Sophia's irritated face greeted him.

"Fayt! Do you know I've been trying to contact you for like an hour?"

He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head, a response he had probably picked up from Cliff. "Sorry, Sophia. I was just busy."

Her face instantly softened. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad at you. I was just worried when you didn't answer."

"It's okay. So what's going on?"

"I'll be going home soon. I think we'll arrive sometime tomorrow, at least that's what Maria said."

Fayt just looked at her for a long moment, trying to reel the past back in. She was still on the Diplo. Though it felt like it had been ages, it wasn't too many days ago that he was still on that same ship with her. There was even something vaguely surreal about talking with her then and there, though he couldn't pinpoint why.

"That's great. I'll bet you're crazy to get off that ship, huh?" he said amiably.

She smiled and shrugged. But when her shoulders came back down, they seemed to droop. Her smile melted into seriousness. "How are you, Fayt? Is everything okay there?"

"Yeah," he said, refusing to acknowledge the living nightmare staining his memory, "everything's fine. What's with that look? Is something wrong?"

"I had that dream again. Last night. You know that nightmare I told you about? I thought, once we were done with…him…that it was over. I tried to get a hold of you as soon as I woke up, and when you didn't answer…I don't know."

Fayt tried to express his most sympathetic expression. "Hey, remember what I told you? It's just a dream."

"I know that, but…I just feel really scared for you."

Fayt overlapped the difference in their time spaces, according to Sophia's recount, and wondered if she had been sleeping while he and Albel were underground. He was suddenly more eager to know the details about her dream.

"Maybe if you tell me about it you'll feel better. I might even be able to figure it out for you."

She looked skeptical, but followed his advice. "It was the same really. It starts out so dark, but I can tell you're there, and it's like you're trying to get away from something but you can't see where you're going. And then I can see everything, but it's all red. You're fighting with someone. There's something familiar about this person, but I can't see his face. You start to fall, and then…" She lowered her face as if trying to hide the fact that she was struggling to maintain her composure.

"Go on, Sophia. It's okay." Fayt knew he wouldn't like whatever she would tell him.

Sophia lifted her face and her eyes were glittering wet. "It goes dark, and I can't see anything again. But I can hear you screaming. It's so horrible." The tears finally slipped from her eyes, but she made no move to dry them. "I shut my eyes even though I can't see, but then I can suddenly see everything. And he kills you, Fayt. I've watched you die every time…" She sniffed wetly. When she spoke, she was bordering on hysteria. "Luther's dead, isn't he Fayt?"

"Yeah, he's dead." For a brief moment her panic was infectious, and he too began to doubt. But his rationale came back to him before she could pick up on it and he soothed her for several more minutes with reassurances. By the time he had her smiling again and prepared to leave him, he said his goodbyes and flipped off the communicator.

He had the notion that their genetic link had somehow lent her a portion of his own nightmare down in the dungeons and contributed to her dream. But then if that were true, wouldn't Maria have had some sort of vision as well? He strongly doubted that she was the type to be frightened of a dream, no matter how gruesome it was. And he really didn't feel like calling her up and asking about it. What would that prove anyway? Sophia had probably just tapped into their common link at a very bad time. She would forget all about the horrible images soon no doubt. And then once he was back in Kirlsa, he could do the same.

* * *

Albel braced himself with murderous intentions as his weapons. He would have no qualms with tearing out flesh and breaking bones with tooth and nail.

A disembodied voice filtered through the hall as softly as a ray of light. "Forgive me, I did try to wait, but you see, I just couldn't help myself. He looked so…delicious. And he was, too. Every last inch of him. But you already understand what I mean."

"What the hell have you done?" Albel said with the same deceitful calm as the eye of a storm. The laughter that sent needles of that awful marriage of horror, rage, and ecstasy down his spine came again.

"Please. You are in my domain, and being so, you are also a slave to my regulations. You could at least thank me for giving you your hand back. Oh, and I also took the liberty of heightening those dulled senses of yours when I mended the nerves in your fingers. You have quite a tolerance to sensation, especially to pain; it took a fair deal of work. I understand that you are a warrior, but honestly, how can you enjoy life when you cannot feel it to its fullest?"

"Stop prattling and answer me, worm."

"Antisocial, are we?" The voice seemed to concentrate into one place directly near the cross. A shadow appeared in one spot beside Fayt's arm, despite the torchlight, and then the darkness formed into Romero's form, just as Albel had seen it last. The demon hovered above the ground, close to Fayt's body, and smiled as he wrapped an arm around the unconscious figure's shoulder. The other arm ran an appreciative finger down the boy's pale abs.

"And here I thought we could share sentiments over the flesh of this boy. That sweet blood in your mouth. That soft hair between your fingers. Those lips' breath echoing in your ears." Romero paused and cast a dark look directly into Albel's eyes. "That hot tightness around you when you fuck him."

Albel seethed with rage. But when Romero's eyes blazed with molten fire and the demon took a step in midair toward him, he was unable to attack. His body went rigid, and he heard his skull thud with sickening resonance when it hit the floor.

"Let me taste you as well."

He could feel the screams ripping his throat open in time with his clothes as the frozen fire of the demon's fingers touched the bare skin of his sternum, but he couldn't hear anything come out. He didn't know if it was the length of a fingernail opening his skin or the whisper of a caress, but it landed on his nerves like a full symphony. He only knew the pain and the horrendous desire for all of it to continue.

* * *

Once changed into his own clothes, Fayt made his way downstairs toward Albel's chambers. He knocked at the door and thought he heard muffled groaning come from the other side, but then silence. He knocked again. Still nothing. More concerned for the room's occupant than for his own safety, if by chance Albel was there and of sound mind, ready to yell at him for intruding, Fayt opened the unlocked door and stepped inside. It was cold. No, it was freezing beyond reason. Normally the castle was a little cold all the time, especially in the rooms without fires going, but he could see his breath vaporizing before him. His eyes fell to the bed and found the source of the muted noises he had heard. The fur blankets had been kicked down, baring Albel's naked and pale upper body. The Glyphian was curled up with his hands clenched in his short hair, and wore a grimace of agony worthy of putting a satisfied smile on the fat prison torturer's leather-clad face.

Fayt moved closer, calling Albel's name softly at first. When he was standing over the bed, and it was clear that Albel wasn't going to wake from his calling, Fayt reached out and gently tried to pull one of Albel's hands away from what looked like a painful grip on his hair. As soon as his hand closed around the man's wrist, Albel let out a scream that sent Fayt back onto his rear in complete surprise. Albel screamed again, jerking out of his fetal position and arching his back out as if trying to push something away.

Fayt stood and watched the violent one-sided struggle with wide eyes. He had never imagined Albel as capable of having such vivid nightmares and didn't know what to do. But the grating of the man's teeth and the labored breathing, as if something heavy sat upon his chest, could not continue while he just looked on. Albel could scratch and tear at him, but he had to wake the man up.

At the silent count of three, Fayt was on top on Albel, pinning his strong arms down to the bed to keep them from flying up and knocking out his teeth. He laid his weight out over Albel's chest to still the convulsions, and was nearly thrown off with a force that could only be accounted to the pure, free-flowing adrenaline from the body below him.

"Albel, wake up! Wake up!" Fayt cried, positively terrified that the swordsman never would. "It's okay! It's me, Fayt!"

The thrashing eventually stilled until Albel slumped down in exhaustion, breathing hard. Ruby eyes slowly opened and looked blankly into worried green ones. Fayt could practically see the second that Albel's consciousness came back, but he was tossed hard back to the floor before it came fully to light.

Albel jerked upright and threw an alarmed look down at Fayt, who thought his heart had stopped for a second. Then, realizing where he was, his expression fell into carefully guarded stone.

"What the hell are you doing?" Albel shot.

Fayt stood. "I thought I was saving your life. You were ready to tear your own throat out from where I was standing."

"Nonsense. I—" Albel paused and looked steadily at Fayt.

"What is it?" Fayt turned and looked behind him just to be sure some hideous monster wasn't standing next to him.

"Come here."

Fayt turned back and was taken aback with the strange expression on Albel's face. There was no way he could even describe it. But he obeyed and knelt down at the edge of the bed.

"This isn't another dream, is it?" With a tentative hand, he reached out and gently poked Fayt in the collar.

He stayed still, confused, but allowed the man to do whatever he had to do. "If it is, then apparently I'm dreaming too."

The hand came up and for a moment Fayt feared that it was about to strike him. He flinched slightly, but it only smoothed up his jaw, over his chin and toward his lips. But Albel must have confirmed something, because his hand moved away then.

"I hope your affairs at the castle are over," Albel said.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Get yourself ready. We're leaving."

* * *

To be continued…


	9. The Dusk Falls Over Kirlsa

When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Nine

* * *

The snow had stopped falling completely by the time Fayt and Albel had gathered their things for their departure from Airyglyph. The king was immersed in some sort of business of his own, so Albel curtly ordered one of the pages to relay a message to him once the monarch was unoccupied. Albel had retained his bad mood ever since his rude awakening that afternoon, so Fayt didn't bother chancing conversation as the pair traversed the long castle bridge toward the mountain path. The air still carried a cold bite, and Fayt tugged his hood tighter around his face. He had a nagging feeling that they shouldn't have been departing so abruptly; it seemed as though they were leaving something terrible behind in that dungeon. It wasn't right that the Glyphians should have to deal with such a thing on their own if it still remained. But at the same time he half hoped it really _was_ still there and not following them back. That sort of selfish thinking bothered him, but all he knew was that he didn't want to ever witness the kind of thing he had seen down there again.

A few stray wolves, motivated by hunger, were out prowling along the cliff's edge when they passed. Upon seeing the lonely travelers the beasts hunkered down and snarled, occasionally whipping a tongue along scruffy jaws. Albel had the Crimson Scourge ready. The leader of the scraggly pack, however, grunted to signal the group to slow their advancements, as if the old beast could sense Albel's sheer malignity and knew there was little chance of finding an easy meal there. The other wolves whimpered and followed when the leader turned and darted away.

Albel relaxed his stance and resheathed his blade. Fayt heard him harrumph and knew his companion had been anticipating spilled blood. He almost regretted the few and far between encounters with the mountain animals from then on. It might have given the older man something to take out his aggressions upon.

Fortunately, however, they were able to get a fire going in a larger cave that evening. Since the weather was not as bad, Albel took up the first watch as Fayt stretched out on the smooth but cold-hardened dirt to sleep. The night was still, and he nodded off almost immediately. But when Fayt's back started to cramp and his eyes fluttered open as he shifted his weight into a new position, he found the first streak of carmine on the clouds' underbellies already at play. Sitting up and whipping around toward the mouth of the cave, he saw Albel's silhouette sitting hunched there. He scrambled to a stand.

"Albel! You were supposed to wake me up so I could take the second watch. Geez. Didn't you sleep at all?"

The Glyphian didn't turn. "How could I?" His voice was soft, almost hollow, and not like him at all.

Fayt ducked out of the cave to check out the area. The wind was blowing cold again and the sky to the west was nearly black with snow clouds, despite the early morning sun cracking through the east. Still, there was an atmosphere of desolation, as if they were in the middle of a wasteland. Maybe it had always looked that way and he never actually noticed it before, but Fayt couldn't deny that something in the air felt distinctively melancholy. He didn't sense any danger in it, but it was not comforting either.

Fayt turned to see if Albel was going to get up so they could set out soon, his mouth already open to speak, but the sight of the man stopped him. Albel's face was sickly pale, his eyes pink and rimmed in scarlet. Blue quarter moons etched the inner curves of his eyes. Fayt sucked his words back into his throat. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees and seized Albel's shoulders. He was afraid that Albel had retreated somewhere away from his body, like the place that haunted his sleep; he barely looked conscious even with his eyes open. Fayt jerked him once, firmly.

Slowly Albel blinked and pulled his focus in to settle on Fayt. "What is it?" He said it as though he really had been asleep the whole time.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Albel shook his head. "I didn't sleep. I wouldn't."

Fayt didn't actually have to ask to understand, but he did so anyway. "What is it then? Why are you afraid to fall asleep?"

A sneer broke Albel's stony expression. "I'm not afraid of anything, worm. You should remember that." He pushed Fayt away and stood, wavering slightly. "Let's go. We're wasting time."

Fayt reached out and grabbed Albel's arm to steady him. "Just wait a second, okay? Are you sure you're all right?"

Albel jerked away. "Get your hands off me!" He took a few steps forward and stopped. His voice was calmer and almost apologetic when he spoke again. "I'm fine. Come on."

Fayt was skeptical, but retrieved their pack from the cave and followed anyway.

They arrived back in Kirlsa in good time; the sun had yet to set on the horizon, but the sky was rich with its promise. Woltar greeted them soon after they entered the mansion. A few servants were bustling around in the kitchen beyond, preparing extra supper for the lords' sudden return no doubt. Albel grunted his usual wordless greeting in response to Woltar's warm expression and jumped up the staircase, eager to rid himself of his heavy winter garb. Fayt was also just beginning to work off his bulk when he discovered the spark of wild curiosity in Woltar's eyes. The older man watched him expectantly.

Fayt looked down to avoid that gaze. "We were too late."

"Then, they were all already…"

Fayt nodded. His first duty leading up to his knighthood was a failure. Somehow he couldn't help feeling he had let Woltar down. He distracted himself by blankly watching a gaggle of servants clomp hurriedly up the stairs carrying steaming buckets of water. Though he could only truly speak for one of the soldiers that had been swallowed by the mysterious dark, he was all but certain a similar fate befell the others.

"That is terrible news. Most unfortunate. Were you able to discover the cause?"

The last thing Fayt wanted was to talk about the seemingly impossible. Would Woltar really believe that the place was infested with demons? Or at the very least, inspired unimaginably nightmarish hallucinations? Well, even if the old man was capable of taking the truth for what it was, Fayt felt sick just considering relaying the story in words. He'd hardly believed it himself, anyway.

"It must have been suffocation, or exposure. It was freezing down there. They must've gotten lost and just…"

Woltar nodded as Fayt trailed off. "I see. Well, I am grateful that you and Albel made it back safely. I'm sure you are glad to be out of those dreadful mountains as well."

"It wasn't so bad on the way back."

"I am pleased to hear that. Ah, but I've kept you too long. I'm sure you are just as eager as Albel to remove your burdens. Please refresh yourself upstairs. Supper should be served in less than an hour. However, if you feel you need to rest I will understand completely."

"Thank you." Fayt started up the stairs, relieved that he wasn't obligated to be awake within an hour's time. He wasn't sure he'd even make it twenty more minutes as it was. As his feet fell on the second floor landing, he wondered if Albel would sleep at all. He was the one that desperately needed it.

The more he thought about it, the more concerned he grew. Once Fayt had changed into more comfortable clothes he slipped out of his bedroom and crossed the landing toward Albel's door. He knocked and waited until a half undressed Albel answered. The older man gestured Fayt inside anyway.

"I was just wondering if you were alright. Do you think you'll be able to sleep tonight?" Fayt watched as Albel paid no heed to modesty and stripped from the remainder of his clothing. The fire burning from the corner of the room illuminated his naked skin so that his flesh glowed a rich orange. The material normally binding his hair at the back had been unwound, and for the first time Fayt saw Albel's long hair hang freely down his back.

"I was planning on trying, after a bath," Albel replied. "That is, if those incompetent fools have readied it as I bade them." He kicked the heavy coat out of his path from where it lay rumpled on the floor. He made a distasteful face at Fayt as he moved to exit the room. "You could stand to do with one as well."

From Albel's current attitude, it was hard to believe he had seen the older man in the cracked state he had been in that morning on the mountain. It might have been the familiarity of the manor that restored some of his bearings. But Fayt was sure that Albel wasn't totally relieved. He himself was still far from it.

The door to the bathing room opened with a screech and Fayt felt compelled to follow Albel inside. Was his statement an invitation? He wasn't really expected to bathe in the same water once Albel was finished, was he? He couldn't bear to ask the servants to haul fresh, hot water back up the stairs again. It was nothing short of miraculous that they even got it heated so fast as it was.

Whether it was respect for the manor lord or fear of inciting Albel's infamous rage, the bath awaited ready: full and steaming in the middle of the room. Fayt lingered at the threshold; he couldn't help staring with a degree of longing at the water's inviting sight. Albel paused at the edge of the tub—which was larger than he had expected—and looked back at Fayt.

"Well? Are you coming in or going out? Shut the damn door one way or the other." Albel lowered himself into the water with a slight hiss, his back to Fayt.

Though half tempted to leave, Fayt couldn't quite bring his feet to back away. Instead he moved fully into the already steaming room and closed the door with a rusty click behind him. He stood like that for a moment, fingers splayed over the slightly warped wood behind his back, before pushing himself away and lifting his hands unsteadily to the zipper of his tunic. Well, the tub _was_ big enough for two.

After the moment it took him to unclad himself, Fayt approached the tub and circled to the other side. He noticed immediately that Albel wasn't looking at him; in fact, it appeared as though he had already dozed off with his head resting at a slight angle against the wooden tub's ledge. Fayt gently lowered himself into the water and found its temperature a welcome contrast to the bitter cold through which he had had to suffer over the course of the past few days. It stung, but the pain was almost pleasant.

Locating a bar of soap resting on the ledge nearby, Fayt picked it up and began to work it over his skin. The scent of fresh cottonwood filled his nostrils, and he breathed the comforting aroma in deeply. He scrubbed it thoroughly through his hair before dunking down to rinse it out. It felt as though he hadn't washed his hair in eons.

"Albel?" he called softly once he was finished. He prayed Albel wouldn't awaken with a violent start again.

The swordsman merely blinked to signal his consciousness and took the soap from Fayt's offering hand. He began to cleanse his body in silence, his mind clearly occupied by some troublesome blight. Fayt could easily guess its origins.

"It was all the people I've killed. Down there. I saw them all. There were kids…"

Albel looked up at Fayt, the glaze clearing from his eyes. Then he nodded, and it was all he needed to do to illustrate that he understood anything Fayt couldn't bring himself to say.

Fayt studied his companion, hoping Albel would finally speak up. "Something tells me what you saw was far worse."

"I don't know what I saw," Albel quickly replied. "Only that it breached an unforgivable boundary." A slightly pained expression flitted over his features as he stared into the steaming water. "And, I would just prefer not to think on it right now."

"Hey, do you remember what Luther said that day? About some new 'program'? I've been thinking about that lately. You don't suppose all of this had something to do with that, do you?"

"I would never claim to understand that lunatic's words. Besides, he's dead now."

Fayt furrowed his brow. "…Yeah…" He knew this to be true, obviously, as he had been there that day. But ever since Sophia had voiced her doubts in such a panicked manner, he couldn't shake the terrible, hesitant feeling newly instilled in his chest.

Albel deposited the soap back on the ledge and ducked down beneath the water's surface to rub the suds out of his scalp. When he reemerged, he smoothed the hair out of his face and wiped the water from his eyes. His hair clung to his chest and shoulders in wet, snaking strips.

Fayt caught himself staring, his mode of thought gracelessly shifting like a derailed train. He thought about everything that had happened to them over the course of the last few weeks. They now officially lived together. That fact alone was strange in a sense. They had shared Albel's bed in Airyglyph and slept the entire night. At the time, Fayt hadn't really thought much about it, but now that they were currently sharing a tub together, the realization that they hadn't been physical since that painful night on the Diplo drove itself home. The stress of their travels, everything they had seen and lived through…it was little wonder they were both nearly out of their minds from the frustration. Seeing Albel now, sitting across from him yet being so close their legs could easily brush together, made Fayt's pulse begin to accelerate.

"Hey," Fayt said softly. When Albel looked at him, his expression blank and lips saying nothing, Fayt couldn't help the curl tugging one corner of his mouth upward. "Why did you let me get in here with you?"

Albel snorted. "What, you would have preferred waiting until the water grew cold?"

Fayt let out an amused sigh. "Like I'd believe you were really considering me like that."

Albel narrowed his eyes, but kept them trained on the green ones before him. Fayt had always played it relatively cautious around Albel, as the man's temper was akin to a teetering bomb, but right now he was tired of tiptoeing that field of eggshells. The more he mused on it, the more his blood began to sing in his veins.

Shifting himself to his knees, he moved to straddle the outstretched legs next to him and leaned his body into Albel's without so much as a warning. Half expecting a painful retaliation, or even a cutting insult at the very least, Fayt was surprised to find that Albel didn't react at all, but simply watched him. Fayt took that as permission and tilted his head, not failing to notice the nearly imperceptible way Albel's lips parted as he drew in closer.

Their initial contact was soft, deft, so unlike the first time they had done this. Fayt lifted his hands to the back of Albel's head and neck, closing his eyes and initiating their kiss to a deeper level of intimacy. It didn't take more than a few moments of that to provoke a twitch of life from Albel's groin, and his own hardly needed much more motivation before he was completely hard. Fayt was almost relieved when Albel finally responded by sliding his hands over Fayt's sides as if holding him in place. Settling himself even closer so that he sat on Albel's lap, Fayt slowly began to grind. That touch alone was already good enough to get him going. There was no doubt that they both desperately needed this in one way or another.

Trailing his right hand down Albel's chest—taking care to brush his fingers over a nipple—Fayt sought the source of their clumsy movements. Wrapping his hand loosely around both of their erections, he formed a barrier to keep them together as he continued to steadily rub himself against Albel's arousal. Albel responded by gripping Fayt's rear, kneading the flesh there as he moaned low into Fayt's mouth.

Fayt was already incredibly turned on, so when he heard that groan—actually felt it tumble over his lips and tongue—he unconsciously picked up his pace a notch. He could sense they were both climbing up that summit at a rather animalistic rush; it had been too long. So when Albel's scarred hand moved from his backside to join his hand on their cocks, its strange and almost rigid skin adding unexpected stimulation to Fayt's sensitive shaft, he let out an unstable moan of his own and ground harder.

Knocking at the bathing room's door caught them both off guard, and Fayt paused in alarm. He broke their kiss and glanced up at the door in a mixture of panic and guilt. Albel, on the other hand, never bothered to stop, and even encouraged Fayt to keep going by pressing up into him and pushing against his rear in a meaningful manner.

"Lord Albel? Is there anything else I can get for you?" a muffled, feminine voice called out from the other side.

Albel turned his head to the side so his voice would carry further across the room. "Not now."

"Alright. Lord Woltar bade me to inform you that dinner will be served in twenty minutes."

"Yes, yes fine!"

Albel turned his attentions back to Fayt, who realized that Albel's stern composure hadn't wavered at all while he addressed the maidservant, even in this situation. Fayt couldn't help but laugh under his breath before seeking Albel's mouth again. Before long their distraction was already forgotten and they were both absorbed back into more pressing matters. It had only taken a minute or two before they were breathing heavily into one another's mouths and coming hard between stiffening fingers.

Fayt shuddered in the wake of his orgasm and slumped heavily against Albel's body, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a loose, affectionate embrace.

"I can't even tell you how much I needed that," Fayt admitted lazily in Albel's ear.

"How like you to be satisfied from something so simple," Albel retorted and pried Fayt's arms off his neck.

Fayt knew Albel was bluffing; he had felt firsthand how much the man had actually enjoyed it. Yet he allowed Albel to push him away without complaining. "So, in other words you're offering round two?"

Albel was just beginning to get out of the tub when he paused, giving Fayt a bemused look. "Tch. Perhaps if you want to be fucked senseless…" He stood and exited the bath, seeking a towel from the stack resting on the table against the wall. After wrapping it around his waist he made his way to the door. "I suppose I can oblige you later. But right now, I'm starving." With that, he left Fayt alone in the steam-filled room.

* * *

That night, as he lay awaiting sleep in his bed, Fayt watched the moonlight creep sluggishly yet inexorably over the walls as the minutes ticked by. He was tired, and though he was sure that he would slumber like the dead this night, he found his mind unwilling to allow him a moment's peace once his head landed on the pillow. Albel had retired to his room after supper with his usual, stoic, wordless exit. The meal itself wasn't as painful as he'd expected; Woltar seemed strangely satisfied by their story concerning the Airyglyph dungeons, though the tale itself was only a residue of what had really happened. The rest of the time, Fayt had fielded Woltar's questions about his knighthood induction. The old man was clearly happy about having Fayt among Airyglyph's military ranks, and that positive aura seemed to make up for the sour discretion Fayt had been subjected to during the ceremony itself.

Once the meal was over and Woltar excused himself to retire for the night, Fayt, somewhat looking forward to making good on Albel's offer, had gone upstairs some minutes later and knocked on Albel's door. Receiving no answer, Fayt had pushed the door open a crack and seen Albel curled up on the bed, already passed out in the glow of the fireplace. Fayt couldn't bring himself to rouse Albel after that. Not when he knew how terribly Albel needed to rest. So he'd closed the door and retired to his room to do the same. Though, now the better part of him almost wished he _had_ woken Albel up if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer through the night hours like this.

Flipping over the umpteenth time in a futile effort to find a comfortable position, Fayt sighed. He was simply too wound up for some reason, and knew with a certain degree of certainty that sleep would not come to him any time soon. It might be better if he just wore himself out somehow. A walk through the town might do just that.

Despite his body's sluggish resistance, he hauled himself out of bed and dressed. The manor was still and quiet at that hour; all the servants had doubtlessly retired some time ago. Sconces fueled by low currents of runological power flickered in the hallways and illuminated his trek down the grand staircase. The front door barely made a sound as he exited the house. Both guards stood relaxed against the walls on wither side of the gate, but perked from their sleepy states at the sound of Fayt's approach.

"Sir?" one of them asked with a decidedly confused expression as Fayt stepped up to the iron gate. "Is something amiss?"

"No," Fayt replied, "everything's fine. Just going out for a bit. I'll be back shortly."

The two guards exchanged a grief glance before the first one complied with Fayt's wishes and opened the gate.

The night was cold, still, and the town rested in a thick blanket of sleep. Even the wintry wind had stilled. The moon, bloated and bright as it slowly traversed the sky, seemed to be the only other body stirring as Fayt meandered about. He hadn't been paying too much mind as to where his feet took him, just allowed his mind to go empty as he admired the quaint shapes of the town architecture. Its roofs and weathervanes glowed in the moonlight, their sharp points and edges all at once threatening and familiar against the dark skyline.

He hadn't realized he had circled nearly then entire spans of the town until he approached the road leading to the Traum Mountains, where the air was always colder. This night, however, the chill was strangely more founded even in the absence of the winds. Shivering, he was about to turn back to the mansion when a shadow caught his eye from the mountain road. A human figure, approaching the town. Someone was coming down from the mountains.

Fayt paused, studying the silhouette in the dark and trying to reason why anyone would be out traveling at this time of night. Whoever it was must have seen him as well, for the figure lifted an arm in greeting in Fayt's direction. Whether from curiosity or from worry over the stranger's condition, Fayt moved to meet the person halfway.

As he neared, Fayt could see from the figure's general build that it was a man, swathed in a dark cloak, the hood of which fell loose and massive over the upper portion of his face. Fayt had little time to wonder over the lack of any traveling bags on the man's person before a voice greeted him.

"Good evening!"

Fayt smiled thinly before realizing that the dark overlaying the town probably concealed his expression. "Uh…hello."

The man stopped a few paces before Fayt and chuckled shortly as he dusted the scant flakes of snow off his cloak's shoulders. "Weather's getting bad again up there. Looks like I made it just in time. Um, I hate to inconvenience you, sir, but could you please point me toward the nearest inn?"

Even with a general lack of light, Fayt could see by the shine of the moon that the man was gaunt; he looked decidedly unhealthy and possibly over-traveled. His ears didn't miss the faint wheezing coming from the wanderer's lungs, and Fayt suddenly felt somewhat remorseful for behaving coldly to someone that was surely in need of help. "Yeah, sure. It's pretty close by so I can just take you there." He gestured with his thumb pointing over his shoulder.

The silver moonlight caught on a set of fine, white teeth when the traveler smiled. "I would certainly appreciate that. Feels like I've been walking all day."

Fayt began to walk in the direction of the inn and the man quickly fell into step beside him. The silence between them for the first moment left an uncomfortable feeling in Fayt's chest. He had to break the silence. "You're from Airyglyph?" he ventured.

"Recently, yes," the stranger said in a rich voice that betrayed no fatigue. "I had some business there. But I'm actually from Greeton, originally."

Fayt recalled the day he and Cliff had to cover themselves when they first arrived on Elicoor II by claiming that they were from that continent. Other than Nell's revelation that the kingdom was far more advanced than the rest of the planet, everything else about the place remained a mystery. In truth, he had always been curious about its inhabitants and just how much they knew technologically.

"Really? So you're a merchant?"

"Well, yes and no. I suppose you could say I deal in knowledge. I'm a teacher of sorts."

"I see." Fayt wasn't sure what else to say at this point, as the man seemed to be deliberately evasive. And he wasn't sure if it would appear rude to pry any further. Still, something about this person intrigued him.

"And you? Forgive me, but you don't seem like a native to these parts."

"Actually, I'm…" Fayt hesitated; the first thing about to leave his lips was that same old lie about being from Greeton as well, but naturally this would no longer hold up. "I'm just staying with a friend who lives here."

The man lifted his head slightly, but not enough to allow the moonlight to spill into his hood. "That's nice. Friends are wonderful things."

"So, what is it you teach?"

The man laughed shortly, quietly. "Just about everything. Are you curious about Greeton's technology?"

The query was sudden, so precise that Fayt briefly wondered if his mind was exposed and being read. "Well, yes. Actually I am."

"Hmm. I can see you're a bright one. You have much talent for runology in you." The man glanced at Fayt before ducking his head down again. "I hope I haven't disturbed you. I know a fair bit myself, and am quite adept at spotting the talent in young people."

"I didn't know Greeton had runologists."

"Yes, we do. Though it might be of a somewhat different breed than you are used to."

They came to the front door of the inn, where Fayt stopped. The stranger looked up at the signboard. "Ah. You weren't lying when you said it was close." He lifted a hand toward his guide. "Well, I thank you all the same for you help, mister…"

Fayt eyed the hand for a moment, dismayed to find it just as colorless as the man's lower face had been. How could anyone who traveled be so pale? Perhaps it was only the moon playing tricks with the light. Discovering his hesitation to be evident, Fayt quickly grasped the hand and allowed a friendly shake to connect them before the man let go. "Fayt."

The even smile returned. "Fayt. It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He turned to enter the building.

"You…haven't told me your name," Fayt replied before he could disappear inside.

The traveler stopped and turned back, pausing a moment to watch Fayt stand against the backdrop of night before he replied. "Romero."

"Nice to meet you, then." Fayt lifted an arm in a gesture of farewell, but was halted by Romero's voice.

"You know, I have some dealings to attend to in this fair town tomorrow, but I'll not be occupied all day. Perhaps, if your curiosity remains, we can exchange information over drinks."

Fayt could hardly control the reply that slipped from his mouth, as if it came of its own accord. "I'd like that."

"Wonderful. Perhaps around sunset? I will be anticipating our meeting. Good night, then." With that, the cloaked man shut the inn's door behind him and all was still again.

Fayt breathed the cold night air in deep, wondering why his face felt so strangely warm at that moment. He wondered if he would even recognize the man again should he choose to seek him out the next day. However, it might be worth trying. He had met intelligent people on Elicoor; of that there was no question. But the opportunity to converse with someone whose knowledge exceeded that of the scientists who helped to build the runological cannon could not be passed up. Perhaps he could even glean some knowledge to help improve the lives of those who had been caught up in the war.

Fayt returned to Woltar's mansion, suddenly feeling drowsy, yet anticipating the day that would come upon awakening.

* * *

A/N: It seems my sparkly return includes frottage. Ahem. Uh, anyway! The answer to your question is yes, but please don't hold your breath. I will update again before an incomprehensible span of time passes this time. I have a ton of projects crowding the burner right now. D:

Thanks, as always, for reading, and yeah. Damn. I've been estranged for a long, LONG time.


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